Like You Need it to Survive
by MindAtWork
Summary: Alexander doesn't do friends, he especially doesn't do relationships. No, he wouldn't want anyone to suffer with him, besides, alone just hurts less. His companions are his words and that's it. So what happens when the man with the hazel eyes walks into his life? (Lams) Rating for language and future smut.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Thank you for stopping by, just a little detour from my fluffier Lams fic. I have a soft spot for broken A. Ham.**

* * *

I sat up and looked around. It took me a moment to realize where I was, apartment… at my desk. Okay, good start, lamp's on, maybe it's still night? I fell asleep and now it's… I glanced at my watch. Fuck, it's 7:30, I've been here all night. I straightened my back and yawned. My open notebook and pen were sitting on the desk in front of me. I had to get to work, I'd already overslept and now it would be a struggle to get to the office in time. As quickly as possible, I changed into unwrinkled clothing, poured last night's now cold coffee into my travel mug and shoveled notebooks into my bag. I was out the door in less than fifteen minutes. It was raining, I lit a cigarette and stuffed my free hand in my pocket, still too tired to be anxious.

By the time I made it to the office my coworkers were already there, it was unlike me to be the last one there and it would certainly be noticed. I sat in my cubicle and got to work, I had an afternoon deadline to send my story on the bill that the Governor was working to pass, not that anyone would read it, people only liked to read about the hip restaurants opening in town, my poor newspaper was dying.

An email hit my inbox, from Adams. Of course, I can do your job, too, I rolled my eyes and opened the message. It was to the entire writing staff. There was a new photojournalist joining the team, an attempt to make the paper more approachable to younger audiences, _the millennials that can't read anything longer than a Buzzfeed article without pictures._ I continued to quickly read the email until I saw my name, the newcomer would be shadowing me to see how things were done at the Post. Fucking Adams, I had too much to do to babysit. My desk line rang, it was the boss.

"Adams."

"Hamilton. I trust you've read the email?"

"Yes. Sir, I really don't have the time to… train someone."

"Hamilton, I've never one questioned your competence in my office, that's why you're the only person I can trust with such a task. He's set to come in this afternoon. Take him to lunch, get to know one another."

"Sir, I don't really have time to go to lunch."

"Nonsense, I've already made reservations for the two of you at noon."

I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing my pride, "yes, sir."

"Hamilton," he chided, "be nice," and then disconnected.

Stupid, asshole, incompetent, lazy. I stewed and tried to get back to work on the piece which I'd now have to finish before lunch.

Once it was time to leave, I trudged slowly, not wanting to go. It was still raining out, I pulled the collar of my jacket around me, of course it was raining. By the time I made it to the restaurant my shoes and pant legs were soaked, I left a trail of puddles as the host escorted me to my seat. I studied the menu, searching for the most expensive thing just to waste Adams' money, prick. The waiter brought my espresso and I sipped it, checked my watch, it was fifteen minutes past noon, I grumbled and drew out my journal, starting to work while I waited to pass the time. It was nearly ten more minutes before the host returned with my new charge. I didn't stand, barely looked up. He sat across from me in silence awkwardly.

"Hold on, I'm finishing this." I held up a finger and finished my sentence before grudgingly closing my book. I looked up and met the gaze of the newcomer.

"Hello, sir, I'm John Laurens." He smiled nervously, My breath hitched, I worked to not look at him straight on, he was haloed in curls, molten caramel hazel eyes, freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose, spreading to his cheeks and forehead.

"Alexander Hamilton." I shook his hand curtly.

"Oh, I know who you are. Once Mr. Adams told me that I'd be working with you, I researched the pieces you've written for the paper, and, wow, the story you ran on the Cuomo election! And the fact that you did that in one night? Incredible."

I sipped my espresso and looked away, I couldn't be charmed by simple flattery.

"Sorry I'm late, I don't know this side of the city very well, I got really lost. I hope you weren't waiting for a long time."

"I was."

"Well, I'm really sorry, won't happen again, promise."

The waiter returned and took our order. I ordered the biggest steak on the menu, house salad and baked potato on the side.

"So, where are you from?" The man across the table was beaming and exhaustingly chirpy.

"Doesn't matter."

"Oh, well, I'm from South Carolina, I've lived here for almost four years, though, went to the School of Visual Arts and just never left. I love it here. My-my family's from Puerto Rico, though, but I've never been. It's a shame that they still don't have power all the way back, my Abuela - that's my grandmother - lost her house, but she got to move in with my parents."

I looked at him through narrowed eyes but stayed silent, thoughts screaming at him, _I know what Abuela means, I'm fucking Puerto Rican, and don't talk to me about hurricanes like you know shit, your poor little granny doesn't know shit, either,_ spiteful thoughts rushed in my mind, he talked too much.

Finally, our food came. I dived into my side salad, he'd gotten a salad too. I stayed silent, fixated on my meal. I moved onto the potato, it was the first food I'd eaten today, maybe since yesterday, I tried to remember. My colleague continued talking for the duration of our meal. After finishing my potato, I covered the plate with my napkin.

"Wow, you're not gonna eat that?" He looked quizzically at my plate.

"I'm vegetarian."

"Me too! Save the animals." he smiled too widely. Dimples.

"No, I just don't like meat."

"Oh, why did you get a steak, then?"

"To waste Adams' money, why am I even answering this?" I stood up to leave and drained my espresso mug.

"Did you walk here?"

"Yes."

"Me too, we can walk to the office together."

 _Delightful_.

We exited the restaurant and he put up an umbrella, shielding himself against the rain.

"Here, there's plenty of room," he held out the umbrella to cover me.

"I'm fine, thanks." I walked ahead of him and lit a cigarette.

"Oh, okay."

I put my earbuds in and walked to the office. There was nothing playing, I just wanted him to know the conversation was over. We walked in silence to the office again and shared the elevator to the 14th floor. I kept my earlier pace and walked ahead to my cubicle, there was a new addition, a smaller desk making an L with mine. No. No. No. Adams, you son of a bitch. I got to work again. After an hour, he was back.

"Sorry for taking so long. I had to sign some HR paperwork. So, what's a day look like here?"

"I write. It gets published. I go home. I write more. No one talks to me."

"Wow, that sounds lonely. Good thing I'm here now." He sounded nervous.

I kept writing.

"Do you like to listen to music while you write?"

"Nope."

"Oh, that's cool too."

We sat in silence. I finished what I was working on and transposed it from paper to my computer and emailed the document to the editing team.

"Wow, you hand write everything first?"

"Yup."

"Wow. You are seriously like, the coolest person ever."

I looked at my watch. 4:53, usually the last one to leave, I couldn't wait to get out.

"What time were you due back tomorrow?" I asked, packing my things, avoiding his gaze.

"Mr. Adams told me to ask you what time you thought you would be in."

"I won't be in until ten." I lied.

"I'll see you then!" He waved.

I left the building, relieved to see that the sky was clearing. I got home and flopped on my bed, still unmade from Tuesday morning when I'd last slept in it.

"How dare he have freckles. Freckles and dimples. And hazel eyes. And that hair. Who does he think he is, dimples and freckles and eyes." I complained to the wall and lit another cigarette, forgetting to smoke most of it. Stupid freckles.

I have to see him tomorrow. And again. And there's no escaping him. I frowned at the ceiling and wondered how his hair smelled. Probably like strawberries. Stupid strawberries. I imagined what it would feel like in my hands as I- nope, work to do. I stood up and went to my desk and tried to get work done. I couldn't focus. _Those dimples_ , I wonder if you can see them when he- _Fucks sake, Alex,_ get your shit together. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and struggled to focus on work and not on wondering if it was actually possible to count all those freckles. Those _fucking freckles._


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Pure solo smut**

I was tossing and turning, resenting that my bed was as empty as my mind was full of those freckles. Were those hazel eyes shut and dreaming peacefully? His hair a tangled brunette splash on his pillow or neatly plaited back?

"Who gives a shit, Alex?" I said aloud, my voice bouncing around the room empty room.

 _I should just get up and do some work,_ I told myself, but couldn't find it in me to get up, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, the thought of lights made my head and eyes hurt. I lie in the darkness, listening to the noises of the bar downstairs that my apartment was attached to.

I growled at myself in frustration and palmed myself through the thin fabric of my sweatpants. _Do you know what a loser you are?_ I know. I closed my eyes, focusing on what my hands were doing, trying to relax into the sensations.

He'd bitten his lip when I told him I worked only in silence. I imagined being the one to bite his lips. I moved the cotton out of the way to stroke myself properly. His lips were full, a freckle here and there even on his lips. Was he a hair puller? Did he keep his long because he liked to have it pulled? I would pull it. I wondered how far down his freckles went, did they cover his chest? I considered his chest. He looked strong, a broad man, he filled out the sport coat that he'd worn, surely he had abs, in my mind he had abs. I imagined his muscles tightening and twitching, that it was him in my hands instead of my own body, and let myself release, wishing it was on those abs. Still alone, I was at least less pent up, I cleaned myself up with a dirty t shirt from the floor and smoked a final cigarette, snuffing half of it for the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up on time to the sound of my alarm and smoked the cigarette that middle of the night Alexander had left waiting for morning Alexander. _Good looking out,_ I told myself, lighting it. After finishing my smoke, I willed myself out of bed and into the shower. I closed my eyes against the shampoo as I washed my hair and my imagination glinted hazel. I scrubbed my scalp and thought of _those eyes_ watching me. Hands slicked with soap, I relieved my tension again. On my way out the door, I filled my thermos of coffee.

It was only eight when I arrived at the office. I got to work and finished two of the five pieces on my to-do list for the day when he arrived at ten.

"Good morning, Mr. Hamilton." He set his things down and sat at his desk.

"Laurens." My tone was short, angry with him for invading my senses. I couldn't bear to look at him and kept working.

"So, what can I help with?" He asked, sounding less eager than he had yesterday.

"I'm still not entirely sure what your function is here, but I'm capable of executing my duties independently." I could see his reflection in my monitor. He looked crestfallen.

 _Hamilton, you fuck up._ I could make him smile. I could make him more than smile. But, no. That doesn't end well. I _can't_ cause another heartbreak.

"Oh, okay," he rustled through his bag loudly.

I was finally able to do some work. He was so loud, he'd clearly found what he wanted, and I could hardly hear myself think over the sounds over a scratching pencil tearing across paper. I typed louder, contesting his annoyance with my own and shifted loudly in my seat, cleared my throat. I tried to outlast him. He didn't seem phased, I snapped and turned around, he had headphones over his head, a sketchbook in his lap, and was swaying gently to the music that only he could hear, his tongue flicked out between his teeth as he concentrated. He couldn't even hear me. I left my cube and made for the break room to refill my coffee.

There was a presence behind me, I wheeled around to see Adams.

"Hamilton, how is it going with Mr. Laurens?" His smile was snaky.

"He doesn't do much."

"Have you tried to educate him on how things are done here? I chose you because of your talents, as much as I hate to admit it, you have a great claim to the credit in keeping our paper alive."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to teach him. Photojournalism? That's not even real journalism."

"It is, here, why don't you go check out the new pizza pop-up today. Write a story on it, and he'll contribute photos, my desk tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes as I walked back to my cube and poked Laurens' shoulder exactly as hard as I meant to.

"Ow." He rubbed his shoulder and pulled his headphones around his neck, they confined his hair, he moved so slowly, and finally looked up at me.

I tried to avert my eyes, too late. I locked in stare with him. _Those fucking eyes_.

"We've got a story, come on." I told him and grabbed my things.

"Where are we going?" He asked, shoving things into his bag, the clatter of pencils annoying me.

"New pizza place, because apparently my journalistic worth has diminished to food porn within the duration of your 24 hours at this company." I stared daggers in his direction.

We left together and I waited for the onslaught to begin again, the incessant talking. I didn't want to talk. I never want to _talk._ I'll debate sober, I'll argue belligerently drunk, but never do I want to _talk._

I opted to take the subway to our destination to shorten the duration of the journey. As we crossed the threshold of the restaurant I prepared myself to turn on my people skills.

"Hi," I greeted the host, flashing a smile, "my name is Alexander Hamilton, I'm with the Post, we'd love to do a write up on the success of your business and the success I hope you're still to find."

"Oh, wow, thank you, let me get our manager."

The young woman walked away and I could sense Laurens fidgeting beside me.

"Be chill." I muttered pointedly.

The host returned with a middle aged man.

"Hi, I'm Patrick, I'm the owner here. How can I help you?"

"Patrick, good to meet you, my name is Alexander Hamilton, I'm with the Post, I'd like to do a piece on your restaurant."

"Well, it would be my pleasure, let's get you a seat. Right this way."

Laurens followed us, lost.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he held a hand out to Laurens.

"I'm John, uh, Laurens, I'm a photojournalist."

"Oh, great. I think these might be our first pictures that aren't just destined for Instagram." Patrick laughed heartily and clapped Laurens on the back.

We took our seats, Patrick remained standing, "how about we get some food in you and then we talk. Drinks, first?"

"Rum and coke." I smiled.

"Uh, Sam Adams, please."

"Be right back, guys."

"You can drink? Aren't we working?" Laurens hissed.

"We're experiencing the restaurant, they have a full bar, people will come for our necks if the beer's flat and drinks are weak.

Laurens looked at the menu, I didn't bother.

"What looks good to you? Personally, I'm a sucker for goat cheese."

"Don't look at the menu, let him tell you what we're having."

Patrick returned with their drinks.

"Alright, guys, what are we thinking?"

"Well, everything looks pretty damn good, but I know you've got a favourite, what should be the one thing people try when they come here?"

"See, I'm from Philly originally, born and bred, so right down here, the Philly Cheesesteak is my personal favourite, I blended my upbringing with this culture that pizza has here in New York, and I think the result is pretty spectacular."

"Perfect, I'm in." I smiled and tipped my glass to him.

"And how about for you, sir?"

"Uh, well, if he's getting the Philly Cheesesteak, I want to try something different."

"You like spicy?"

"Um, yeah."

"We've got a killer buffalo chicken. I'll get that going for you guys."

"Thank you so much." I bowed my head and passed him our menus.

He walked away and Laurens looked at me in horror.

"I don't eat meat." He whispered.

"Sucks." I swirled my drink in the glass and sipped it.

"You don't either, though, right?"

"Nope."

Luckily for me, his existential crisis happened silently. I retrieved my journal and acquainted myself with the ambiance. Painted tin ceilings hearkened a prohibition feeling against the dark, glossy wood. Only about twenty tables, it was intimate, not the greasy fluorescence of most pizza shops. Our food came and Patrick sat down in the booth with us.

"This looks great, you definitely know your stuff." I picked up the pizza and took a bite, it was pretty good.

"Hope you enjoy."

"So, I've gotta know, how did you end up in New York City?"

"Well, it's the classic story, I met a girl and she was headed to New York City, I followed her and never looked back."

"Still together?"

"Nope, but that's okay, she gave me this gift, this city."

"It's pretty amazing when you see it for the first time, isn't it?"

"So incredible, I thought Philly was big, but holy, when I landed at JFK, I knew my life would never be the same. You must not be from here originally either."

"Nope, uh, Miami."

"Oh, man, I love Miami! What part?"

Shit, lie, deflect, keep him talking about him.

"The southern part, anyway, yeah, so what's your pizza philosophy?"

The interview continued and went swimmingly, and the pizza was pretty fucking good. Laurens photographed the entire restaurant and most of the kitchen. I shook Patrick's hand and we left.

"You're not from Miami, are you?" Laurens hurried to catch up to me.

"What's it matter?" I lit a cigarette and pulled from it deeply.

"Well, it doesn't really, but, I'd like to get to know you better. I mean, we're going to be working together for a while, so it would probably be good to know about each other. I mean, you know about me. It seems only fair."

We stopped walking, I looked into his eyes and resented myself for what I said next.

"You really, want to get to know me. Sofrito, nine tonight." I walked ahead of him and finished my cigarette.

I was able to get the story written and sent it to the editing team. He was working on a computer that he'd materialized out of his bag, editing the photos he'd taken earlier. I was already done. I was better. I stood up to leave at exactly five, my punctuality a new trait since I found myself having company.

"Oh, are you done? I'm almost done, but I just need to finish this. Nine at Sofrito. I'll see you there."

I nodded and hurried away. Back at home, alone with my thoughts I couldn't believe that I'd told him to join me. I hope it shuts him up, maybe he'll see me for who I really am and just leave me alone. He should leave me alone.


	4. Chapter 4

It was time to go, the walk from my apartment wasn't very long, short enough that I could make it back stumbling drunk. It had happened a few times. I'd thought of the eyes, and the freckles, and the dimples and used that fuel to relieve my tension before leaving to meet him, delaying my departure only a few minutes.

"Alexander!" The bartender raised a glass he was drying in my direction.

"Miguel!" I held a hand up in greeting.

"Cuba Libre?" He asked.

"Gracias!" I nodded and slipped into a booth.

He brought the drink over and we talked for a moment, Miguel was a good guy, a hard worker, he had two kids that he talked about incessantly. And then I saw _him._ He looked around for me and I thought about trying to go unseen, but he caught my eye and smiled, walking a little too quickly to the table. Miguel went back behind the bar to let me greet my guest.

"Hi." he smiled.

Why the fuck was he wearing a sport coat in here?

I nodded and emptied my drink.

"Oh, you're done, well, I can get us both something to drink. You like rum and cokes, right?" His curls bounced around his face.

I nodded. Fine, buy me a drink, make this worth my time. He returned with a pint of beer for himself and my drink.

"Cheers." He lifted his glass.

"To what?"

"To… getting drunk?"

"Fuck it, cheers to that."

Generally I held my liquor well, but I felt it warming me to him, loosening my inhibitions towards staring.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He tilted his head to the side and bit his lip, eyebrows coming together.

I shifted in my seat and tried to make it look unrelated, mostly I was just trying to find a way to relieve the pressure in my jeans before I ended up getting some kind of blood clot.

"Like what?" I asked, looking away.

"I don't know, you're not doing it anymore."

I poked the lime in my drink and took a deep drink, avoiding looking back at him.

"Alexander?"

My name. My. Name. It sounded too good on his lips. His lips were so full. I shifted again, unable to find any relief. I had to look at those lips that had uttered my name, he casually licked foam from the beer's head off his lip. He didn't know what it did to me.

"Call me Hamilton. I call you Laurens."

"Oh, sorry, I thought maybe since we were out we could be less formal. I'm sorry, Mr. Hamilton."

Dammit, not Mr. Hamilton, that sparks some Fifty Shades of Gray shit that I am not prepared to handle. Just Hamilton.

"It's fine." I managed, my voice was rough.

"So, do you come here a lot? The bartender seemed friendly with you and knew your drink order."

"Sometimes."

"That's cool. So are you Puerto Rican? I didn't even know about this place. Show's you what kind of Boricua I am, I guess." He laughed at himself

I didn't want to talk about this. Not now.

"Yup."

"I knew it! Miami, my ass. I know PR when I see PR, man." He gloated.

His _eyes sparkled._

"Good job." I emptied my drink and glanced to Miguel, he nodded.

"So why'd you say Miami?"

"I didn't come here under the happiest of circumstances."

Miguel brought my drink. I was now two ahead of Laurens' one drink.

"Oh. Sorry, I won't ask anymore," he looked into his beer.

Thank God. We could move along.

"You know, you're not really much for conversation. You talked so much at lunch. I was surprised. You were like a whole different person."

"It's my job to be nice to people I'm interviewing."

"I guess, Mr. Adams didn't say it was part of your job to be nice to me." he tucked his lips up toward his cheek. I could see him working the inside of his cheek with his teeth, a nervous habit we shared.

I felt bad. I didn't mean to hurt him, keep him away sure, but I was keeping him away to not hurt him, how had my plan backfired so much that in keeping away I was hurting him.

I motioned to Miguel to get him another drink.

"Put it on mine." I told Miguel.

"Wow, thank you, Mr. Hamilton."

Fuck, with the Mr. again. I shifted, still uncomfortable. He drank this beer more quickly.

"You know, you are pretty fucking mean." He told me, the alcohol was starting to catch up with him.

"I know." I set my hand down on the table and started scratching at the damp coaster, ripping a piece out of it.

"I don't even know why. Like, man, what did I do?"

"Nothing." I picked at the coaster some more.

"Good, 'cause I didn't think I did. You're just an ass." he dropped his hands to the table, fingers brushing my own.

I shivered.

"Yeah, I'm a good, old fashioned piece of shit."

We ordered another round. I was starting to feel the heat in my cheeks from the liquor.

"I don't get it though, why you're so mean to me. You're nice to Miguel, you were nice to pizza man, but we work together. Two whole days and you've maybe said fifty words to me. Why?"

He looked just sad, a hollowness between us.

"Because of you."

"I thought you said I didn't do anything wrong."

"You didn't but, fuck, look at you." I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth.

I closed my eyes and leaned back into the booth.

"What?"

"Oh, shut up with that, 'what' bullshit. Just look at yourself."

I looked at him again, his cheeks burned scarlet, he looked at the table.

"You aren't serious."

"I have no reason to lie."

"You really...?" he trailed off.

"Don't make me keep repeating myself."

"Do… Do you want to get out of here?"

"Fuck, yes."

We tabbed out and left the bar. It was humid, the air was thick and charged.

"Where do we go?" He pondered.

"Mine's pretty close."

I walked in front, leading the way and eventually, we climbed the flights of stairs to my apartment, the bar downstairs was noisy tonight. Good.

"Why don't you just drink at this bar?"

"I don't like to shit where I eat… I like Sofritos, it's like home."

 _Shut up, Alex_ , I hissed at myself, the thoughts clattering around my head.

"Welcome to mi casa." I opened the door.

"It's… nice." he struggled to find a compliment for my sparse abode.

I grabbed his elbow and guided him toward the bedroom.

"You don't have a sheet."

"Nope."

"Why don't you have a sheet?"

"It doesn't matter does it?"

"Not really," he smoothed the blanket over the bed.

"Just lie down already." I rolled my eyes, we both kicked off our shoes. He lie in my bed.

 _What are you doing_ , this is exactly what wasn't supposed to happen, but if I'd already hurt him, I might as well enjoy it. I kicked myself. He was lying there, looking at me.

"Under the circumstances, perhaps you could call me John and I could call you Alexander?"

My name again. I climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

"Fuck, whatever." I pulled at his shirt.

He lifted it over his head, his chest _was_ freckled. He was slim enough that his muscles appeared almost by accident. I pulled off my own shirt, feeling self conscious. Get out of your head, Alex. I tugged at his pants, freeing the fabric from the button. He reached up and touched my face. No one's ever done that before. I continued to disrobe him. He was red and biting his lip again. I couldn't watch him do it again. I plastered our mouths together and sucked his lip between mine. They were so full and soft, mine were chapped and had a tendency to bleed. I didn't care if he felt the scabs, I just needed more of him. I took my own clothes off, never breaking all the way apart from him.

I ran my fingers through his hair, shaking loose the scent of fucking strawberries. _I knew it_. He moaned into my mouth, confirming my suspicions that he like his hair played with. I ran a hand down his flank and held his hip, he moaned again and I took the opportunity presented by the circle he made with his mouth to deepen our kiss. His tongue fought against mine, I moaned involuntarily, tightening my grip of his hair. He flipped us. He _was_ strong. He slunk down my body and covered my hips in a plume of curls as he ducked his head down.

"Fuck." I muttered, gripping at the blankets as I felt his tongue flick out.

My breathing became ragged and I felt my stomach muscles twinging as he worked. His mouth sloppy and wet. I gripped his hair again and resisted the urge to rock my hips. He sucked with enough pressure that I cried out, my breath catching. He looked up at me with those eyes, his cheeks hollowed by the vacuum and my legs cramped, I released in waves, panting as I came down.

He backed away and wiped his mouth. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and lit a cigarette. He coughed behind me. I waved the smoke away from him, trying not to be a complete ass to the man who'd just sucked me off.

"Did you like that?" He sat behind me and wrapped his arms around my trunk.

"Fuck yes." I took a drag off the cigarette.

"I'll return the favour, just give me a minute."

"Take your time. I'm just sightseeing." he kissed my neck.

 _Don't do that shit._ I leaned into his touch, put out the butt of my cigarette in the ash tray on the table and turned to face him, I pressed my lips to his again.

"You taste like smoke." He told me once I forced us apart and pushed him into the mattress.

"Of course I do. You watched me smoke." I nipped his collarbone. He let out a yelp, flushing and gasping.

I slid down his body and looked at his erection, it was the perfect size, a vein twitched along the bottom. I took him in my mouth. He tasted good, better than he had any right to after an evening of drinking.

"Oh, my god." He rubbed my shoulders.

Tenderly. _Tenderly?_

I sucked harder, lapping my tongue over the vein that pulsed. His hips writhed, I drug my teeth lightly over his length and kept sucking. Time passed simultaneously in an instant and not at all.

"Alexander, Alexan, Alex, Al, fuck!" He groaned and came for me, I swallowed hungrily.

"Well. There you go." I wiped my face and toggled my jaw from side to side, relieving the tension in the muscles.

"Thank you. You're so fucking good."

"I'm skilled."

"In so many things."

He blushed.

"You're hard again." He observed.

I nodded.

"And?"

"Do you have any lube?"

"What kind of dumb question is that?" I rolled my eyes and retrieved it from under the bed.

"You can… Usually, I, but it's... please... yes." he bit his lip and glanced at my hardness.

"Oh really?"

"After what you just did to me you can do anything you like. Just, will you kiss me? Your kisses, they're intoxicating."

 _Liar._

I obliged and kissed him deeply, probing his warm mouth with my tongue. He whimpered, whimpered, into my mouth and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tighter to him. His cock was still slick from my mouth and his cum. I pulled away from him, sitting back on my heels.

"Turn over." My voice sounded darker with lust than I meant for it to.

He rolled over onto his knees and elbows, his ass was the perfect shape, more dimples, _of course_ , right above his full cheeks, I grabbed a handful and moaned before reaching for the lube.

"Is this what you want?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"Please." He whispered, his voice thick in his throat.

I lubed my fingers and slid the middle one slowly inside him, he hissed and relaxed. I pumped my finger slowly before adding another one. He cried out as I spread them inside him.

"You like this shit?" I kept pumping, tearing a condom open with my free hand and the assistance of my teeth and rolled it on.

"Yes," he breathed.

Slowly, I pulled my fingers free and used my hand to guide myself inside him.

"Alexander," his voice was muffled by the pillow.

"That's right." I pressed deeply, and grabbed onto his shoulder for leverage.

"Alexander, fuck. It's so good."

I rocked deeply into him, he made small noises into the pillow. I moved my hand from his shoulder to his hair and knotted it around my fingers, pulling his head back. He moaned in ecstasy, it was music. With every thrust he rocked back to meet me.

"Yes, yes, ugh, fuck." he was panting, a sheen of sweat covered his body.

"Fuck." I felt myself tremble, my thighs quaked, I was so close.

"Oh, yes, Alexander, don't stop. Don't stop."

I fucked him harder, getting closer and closer. I dove over the edge, thrusting quickly. He moaned low in his throat and I pulled away from him, liberating myself from the condom, I knotted it up and threw it away.

We both flopped down onto the mattress.

"That was amazing." He smiled at me and laced his fingers under his head.

I watched my cock twitch, my body still alight with the sensations of him. He reached for me, my body stiffened as he rolled, draping an arm over me.

"I don't cuddle." I said, trying to remove his arm.

"What is your deal, dude?" He rolled over closer to me and propped himself up on his elbows.

"I don't have a deal. I just don't cuddle."

"No, this whole asshole thing, you can't really be this big of an asshole. You're a tender lover, so what is your deal?"

"Tender, hah!" I laughed aloud, the sound reverberating through the room.

"You are. No one's ever been that gentle."

"Sorry, I'll remember to hate fuck you next time."

I stood up and pulled my jeans back on.

"We're done here." I looked at him over my shoulder.

"Oh, right, okay, well, I had a good time. Thanks, Alexander."

"Hamilton." I corrected, watching as he dressed himself.

"Sorry. Hamilton." He bit his lip.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: If you're digging this, I'd love some feedback. Reviews are love while coffee takes its sweet time to brew.**

* * *

I got to work and he was already there, in the cubicle that I'd lost claim to.

"Laurens." I sat at my desk and he looked up from his laptop.

"Ale-Hamilton."

I didn't look back at him as I booted my computer up for the day. I started transposing handwritten articles that I'd finished last night after he left.

"About last night," he started.

"No."

"I was just-"

"No."

"Jesus Christ, really?" he sighed, sounding defeated.

"Really. It's over. This is my job, I'm not quick to sully such vastly different domains of my life."

"Oh, well, we don't have to talk here, but I'd like to see you again." He whispered, in his own way attempting to respect my privacy.

"You can see me right now." I'll admit it was petulant.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, I ignored him.

"Fine."

We worked in silence, heaviness hung between us. I wouldn't talk to him for three weeks.

Time passed and our evening together stirred up my self loathing. I could barely look at him. After a week, he'd been given his own cubicle, causing a sigh of relief from me, except for the fact that no fewer than three times a day he was still in my cube. He came to talk, to stare, to bite his lip. I did my best to ignore him.

"So do you want to go?" I snapped out of my writing, hearing his question, he'd been talking for the last five minutes.

"Go where?" I did my best to sound disinterested.

"To that concert with me?"

"Oh, can't I have plans." I absently checked my phone, keeping an eye on the forecast, it was getting closer.

"You do?" He sounded surprised.

"Yes, is that so surprising?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that… you just made it seem like…" he trailed off and left my space.

The weather forecast suggested that the intensity of the storm had increased, and that it would be coming earlier. I packed my things up, I could finish my work at home. Silently, I passed by his cube -he was working on his computer- on my way to poke my head in at Adams.

"Sir, I'm finishing my assignment at home this afternoon."

"That's fine," Adams waved me away, he was no stranger to not working at the office.

I rode the train to my stop and made for the bodega around the corner from my apartment, stopping in to refill the liquid stock of my freezer and then quickly headed home. The air hung with the electricity of the impending summer storm. I poured myself a drink, more rum than coke and sat at my desk to finish the article. I heard thunder in the distance over the sounds of the city and typed louder to counter it, trying to finish my work so that I could get properly intoxicated.

Finally finished with my work, I drained my glass and grabbed the bottle from the freezer. The storm was intensifying, winds rattling my shitty apartment windows. I opened the bottle and took a deep pull, it tasted too much like home. The rum's astringence bringing back memories, the crisp smell of it flooded my senses. I closed it again and exchanged the bottle for one of whiskey and sat on the couch ready to drink the rain away. I guzzled from the bottle and checked twitter, rolling my eyes at the stupidity of people. My limbs became heavy, the storm was unrelenting. It was almost midnight, and my phone rang, the buzzing sent a wave of panic through me, it sounded like the thunder outside. I calmed down and saw his name. I'm convinced it was the drink that answered the phone, expunging me of responsibility.

"Hello," my voice slurred, I cleared my throat, lest my voice betray me again.

"Hey, um, so, I'm out, and uh, it's terrible out here. I'm pretty sure you hate me, but is there anyway it would be okay for me to post up at yours until this shit blows over, I know you said you had plans, but I figured it was late enough and maybe you were home by now? You're the only person I know who lives up here."

How could I deny anyone shelter from a storm? Memories invaded my mind.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

I hung up and drank again. He knocked.

"How close were you?" I asked him, noticing how I staggered when getting up to answer the door.

"Um… downstairs."

I shook my head and sat down, feeling my dizziness. He was soaked through, his hair looked so long, curls weighed down by dripping rainwater. His shirt was clinging to his soft muscles.

"You're like, super drunk." His lips twitched.

"Yes I am."

"You must have had fun tonight, what were your plans?"

I drank and motioned to the bottle, "this."

He tipped his head to the side.

"Just drinking alone in your apartment?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

"I don't fuck with storms."

Thunder crashed outside, I jumped, shutting my eyes against the spinning world. Panic rose in my chest. Cold, wet fingertips brushed my cheek. I flinched at the sensation.

"Hey, you're okay." he was cooing.

"I'm fine." I pulled away from his touch. The rain hammered on outside, I bounced my knees, trying to keep my breathing fluid and regular.

"You really don't like storms, do you?'

"I've already stated that, but sincerest thanks for your astute observation." My eyes were still squeezed shut. I took another drink from the bottle.

"Always, such an asshole. How?"

He leaned closer, his hair dripped on me. The water made my eyes fly open, he was so close. Another drop hit me. _Everything stayed so wet. My feet blistered from dampness, hands permanently pruned from hours spent sifting through the wreckage of what had been our home, looking for pieces of my mother's life to hold on to. Everything ruined, everything wet._ I whimpered as his dampness invaded.

"If you're going to do this, go change." I demanded.

"What?" He was taken aback.

"If you're going to be here, all calming and soothing and shit, you have to be dry to do it. Go in my bedroom and get dry clothes and for fucks sake, tie back your hair." I snapped at him.

His eyebrows knit together, another drip.

"Or, leave, fuck, but do one or the other, don't just keep dripping on me and my shit." My tone was meltingly acidic. He retreated to the bedroom and I heard drawers opening and shutting as he searched for where I kept certain articles of clothing, he returned, hair piled on his head wearing my sweatpants and a worn out hoodie from my university days. He looked better in my clothes than I did. My drunk mind betraying me and leaving cracks in my panic for his presence to fill.

"Do you want to talk about what all this is?" He gesticulated at my being drunk in a ball.

"What more is there than the fact that I don't fuck with storms?"

"Okay, but, like, people don't just 'not like storms' and get like this. Something happened to you."

I felt my face grow hot and damp, I angrily wiped silent tears away, panic hitching my breath in my throat.

"So? Lots of things happen to lots of people."

"I know, but I'm not with those people, wearing their clothes in their apartment."

He had me there.

"Yes. Something happened." I looked at the ground, flexing my toes back and forth rapidly, trying to stave off the panic.

"What happened?"

"Hurricane." I felt like I said too much.

"A hurricane, were you in one? Katrina."

I shook my head.

"Alexander, what happened to you?" His use of my first name caught me off guard, he was being insistent, a tone I wasn't even sure he was capable of.

Fuck it.

"Hurricane... Georges… in 1998, I was seven."

"Georges? I don't really remember that one."

"It wasn't too bad here in the states, but back home." I shut my eyes against the memories.

"What happened back home? You mean, Puerto Rico? That's how you get here, isn't it?"

I nodded, "where we lived, everything got leveled, we went without power for so long. My mother," I took a long pull from the bottle and took my time lighting a cigarette, "died."

"I'm so sorry." His eyes brimmed with tears.

"Shit happens." I palmed at my own face.

"The storm was that bad there?"

"It was the lack of power that got her. She was on dialysis, we couldn't keep it going, so she died. I was so little, I didn't know what to do or where to go, I just tried to clean up the house and wait for her to wake up, I don't think I really knew she was gone. I got really sick, we didn't have enough clean water, and… it was just bad."

I could tell he wanted to touch me, comfort me some how.

"How did you get here?"

I smiled slightly, but in my mouth alone.

"You just want to dust off all the skeletons in my closet, don't you?"

"You don't have to."

"My mother was all I had. Father ran off when I was a baby. Only family was a cousin in Brooklyn, social workers found him and boom, welcome to America."

"That's good. Do you guys stay in touch?"

"No. Ten years ago he killed himself, right before my senior year in high school."

"Fuck."

"Yup, so here I am, drinking my way through storms because I smell fire and human decomposition every time the rain hits hot pavement."

"Jesus Christ, Alexander."

"I told you."

He hugged me. I stiffened at his touch, but it was so warm, soothing, that I couldn't make myself pull away. I don't think he even realized that he kissed the top of my head.

"That explains so much about you."

"Oh, yeah, all the baggage in the world. I told you not to fuck around and try to be around me."

"It's not working," He held me even tighter as a loud crash of thunder reverberated through the window panes making me tense, "hey, shhh. Here let's get your mind off of this, drown it out. Do you have Netflix?" He motioned at my television.

"No."

"Where's your computer?"

I gestured and he retrieved it. I unlocked it for him and got him to the internet.

"You can use mine." He smiled at me and typed in the credentials on the Netflix webpage.

"Jetez vos pantalons at gmail is your email." I quirked an eyebrow, surprising him with my knowledge of French.

"No, it's my friend's, you speak French?"

"I do." I chuckled darkly.

"What's so funny?"

"The email address, it pretty much means 'take off your pants,'"

"Oh, my God, he's such a pervert."

He finished logging in and worked to find us something to watch, shaking his head at his friend.

"What do you want to watch?" I asked.

"I dunno. What about you?"

"I don't care, I don't really watch a lot of tv."

He clicked on The Office, "you've watched this, though, right?"

"Nope." I shook my head as it buffered.

We watched four episodes and the storm dissipated. The laptop on the floor, John leaning on me, arms encircling me. He fell asleep, now fully in my lap. I lit a cigarette and kept watching the show until my laptop died. John made small noises while he slept, they endeared me to him. I desperately wanted a cup of coffee, but hated to move him that I smoked another cigarette instead and ran my hands through my greasy tangle of hair waiting for him to wake up.


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter's a long one. No one in my real world knows I write this, so reviews are appreciated. Enjoy.**

* * *

Just before dawn I made myself move away from his sleeping form, he was sleeping deeply and was unaffected by my leaving. I plugged my laptop in and let it start charging while I fixed a fresh pot of coffee. There was plenty for me to do over the course of the weekend and I hoped that if I rustled around enough Laurens would wake up and take the cue to leave… maybe he'd never leave and that would be okay. _Fucking cut it out._

I sat down to type and got lost in my own thoughts when from across the room he bolted upright, tumbling to the floor.

"Shit, what, I'm so sorry." He tugged a hand roughly through his tangle of curls.

"Good morning." I tried to sound curt, but sweet Jesus he was cute. _No, not cute, cute gets emotional, no emotions, just sexy, but, no, he is cute._

"So sorry," he muttered again, his voice raspy with sleep.

I wrinkled my nose and hated myself before the words left my mouth, "would you like to join me for breakfast?"

"Are you serious? You aren't mad?"

"Usually if a man slept over I would be mad, but considering the circumstances, no, I'm not mad, but I am hungry."

"I am, too," he smiled, seeming almost nervous to make eye contact with me.

"Let me go get dressed, there are washcloths under the sink if you want to freshen up.

I disappeared into the bedroom and shimmied around the bed to get to the dresser. There was barely enough room to open the drawers. Retrieving a shirt, I dressed myself and then caught sight of myself in the mirror on top of the dresser. I was haggard, my hair hanging in greasy strings at awkward angles around my face. Without too much thought I plaited it back into a French braid and then shuffled back to the living room. He was on the couch tying his shoes.

"Where do you want to go?" He looked so bright and cheery, his hair piled on the top of his head, still wearing my sweatshirt.

"Uh, there's La Barca? I don't know if you've been there, it's Dominican." I stepped into my loafers.

"Sounds good to me." He grinned and stood up.

"Alright, you ready?"

He nodded and then cocked his head at me.

"You missed a strand of hair."

"What?"

He reached to tuck the free piece into my braid, I jerked away and felt blindly for the piece, not wanting him to know just how disgusting my hair was.

"Thanks." I bit my lip.

We left my apartment behind. It was only about a mile walk, and the weather was pleasant. For the first time that we walked anywhere together I did not pull ahead. We walked in lockstep as I smoked my first cigarette of the new day.

"Thank you for telling me what you did last night… I am really sorry, though." His voice was barely above a whisper.

I took a long pull, "shit happens."

"Sure the fuck does."

We managed to get a table by the window at La Barca, it was packed, chaotic, filled with shouting orders in Spanish and the sizzle of aromatic cooking food. We ordered mangú breakfasts and talked.

"So… does this count as our second or our third date?" John smiled darkly at me, and ran his ankle up my calf.

"We're not dating."

"Kinda seems like we might be. Me, sleeping on the sofa with you, you _deep_ inside me, us getting drunk together, getting breakfast. Sounds like the sort of thing people who date might do." I hadn't seen this side of him. His confidence was sexy.

"I don't date."

"Sounds like you're breaking your rules. It's okay, I like a bad boy." His eyes narrowed.

"This is new." I commented, sipping my coffee.

"What is?"

"You not tiptoeing around me."

"Wasn't working. Figured it was time to try something different." He licked his lips.

My cock twitched.

"I'm serious, I don't date, but if you don't stop this shit, I am going to drag you back to my apartment."

I squirmed in my seat.

"You say you don't date, but you've asked me out twice, what's that about?"

"You don't seem like the type to fuck until after you're fed."

"Jesus Christ, you're brusque."

I shrugged.

Our food came out. I was hungrier than I'd realized and tore into the plantains. They were delicious and comforting.

"Mmm, this is good shit." John moaned, taking another bite, looking into my eyes over the fork.

"Now you're just trying too hard." I quirked an eyebrow.

"Whatever do you mean?" he slipped into an almost hinted southern drawl.

"You know what I mean."

He leaned over his plate to whisper to me, "but it's working, isn't it?"

It was, but I wasn't about to let him know. I shrugged him off and finished my coffee. We kept eating, him staring at me, occasionally nudging my foot with his own.

"You take a lot of boys to breakfast?" He winked.

"Not if I can help it."

"So, I'm special."

I felt heat bloom in my cheeks and cleared my throat, staring out the window.

"Alexander, you're fooling no one."

I kept my gaze fixed out the window.

"Alexander," his voice was musical, I had to see him, see my name on his lips, when I looked at him the corners of his lips quirked in a victorious smile.

"You vy so desperately for my attention, now you have it, so what is it that you have to say?"

"Hmm… I guess I just wanted to look in your eyes."

"Fuck off," my voice was light, playful.

"So that's on your agenda for today?"

"I don't have anything better to do." I smiled despite myself and drained another cup of coffee.

I paid for our food and we left the little restaurant.

"Would you please come over?" He asked.

"To your place? Isn't mine closer?"

"I want you to see more of me."

My eyebrows knit together, "I've already seen all of you, if you recall, the other night."

"No, I mean… me, who I am, come on."

"Fine." We descended the staircase for the train and he grabbed my hand.

"What are you doing?" I tried to tug my hand free.

"Relax, will you, not everything will hurt you. Not me."

 _Liar_.

We got onto the train, our car nearly empty except for a woman and her groceries. He sat impossibly close to me. I shifted, trying to put space between us.

"My roommate shouldn't be home, but it's all good if he is."

"Roommate?"

"'Take off your pants' Netflix guy."

"Oh, right, I didn't realize you... cohabitate."

"Chill. It's nothing like that, Laf's too, just no."

At our stop he led me off the train, clutching my hand again. We were in Manhattan, high rises looming over us, not far from the office, we passed by my favourite midday coffee shop. His building was elegant, a door man greeted us.

"Hey, Kenny."

"Mister Laurens." the man nodded.

We got into the elevator.

"Fuck. Your place is fucking nice."

He shrugged, "Laf comes from money, I do alright for myself."

"What do you mean, you do alright for yourself, I thought you had this whole starving artist thing going on?"

"Well, not really, my dad's loaded, and when my mom died all the kids got to split her life insurance policy."

"Fuck. What are you doing with street scum like me?"

He smirked, "gentrifying?"

"Oh, please."

His unit was as nice as the rest of the building, sleek and refined, two bedrooms. It disgusted me to think about how much this must set him back. He must have noticed the look on my face.

"Don't get too excited, this is all Laf's doing. Come on."

He led me to his bedroom, it was chaotic, unmade bed, clothing and torn out, crumpled sketches strewn about the floor, a collection of dishes on the table by his bed.

"So this is you, huh?"

"Yeah, I stay busy, I don't really have time to clean." He rationalized.

"How can you harangue me for not having a sheet when you live like this?"

"Hey, I at least have a sheet."

He flopped down on the bed and kicked his shoes off. I stood, looking down at him. He motioned for me to join him. Reluctantly, I sat on the end of the bed, feeling like high school all over again.

"I feel pretty gross, I need a shower, you should join me." He sat up on his elbows.

I did too, but showering together? What were we, boyfriends?

"I don't-"

"Alexander, relax, come on, it'll be fun." He flung himself off the bed and grabbed clean clothing from the closet, tossing some to me.

"You're terrible for me."

"I'm exactly what you need, lighten up."

Grudgingly, I followed him across the hall. He shut the bathroom door behind us. The bathroom was the size of my entire kitchen, the walk in shower as big as an elevator. He stripped, blushing at me, I followed suit while he turned on the water. I followed him under the spray.

"Has anyone ever told you you're beautiful?" He wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Nope."

"Then you need to stop spending so much time with blind people, 'cause damn."

The showerhead rained on us, steam filling the shower. I felt my cock grow at his proximity, he grinned and pulled me closer.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" he ducked under the spray, his curls straightening with the weight of the water.

"Courting me."

"I like you."

"But, I've been so mean to you."

He scooted me under the water.

"You have, but I know it's not real. I know more about you than you want me to."

He poured shampoo into his hands and reached for my head.

"Fuck are you doing?"

"Shut up, Alexander. Let someone be nice to you. Cut it out, I want to be good to you."

Hands plunged into my hair, the scent of strawberries flooded my senses. It felt good, his fingers deftly massaging my scalp. I couldn't hold back a moan.

"That feels fucking good."

"I know it does. If you let people in, you might find that they don't all hurt you. Some can make you feel good, make you happy. I'd like to do both."

"I'd like to do you."

"Mmm, I'd be alright with that." He rinsed the soap from my hair and started on his own hair, his waist looking even slimmer as he worked his hands through his hair, the corded muscles of his arms flexing as he lathered.

"You're sexy."

"Ooh, a compliment, how lucky am I, Mr. Hamilton."

I put conditioner in my hair and combed through it with my fingers, leaving it in while I washed the rest of my body. He followed suit and rubbed himself down. I took in the sight of him lathered in soap and reached out for him our slick bodies colliding as he crashed our mouths together. I moaned into his mouth, urgently deepening our kiss. He wrapped a slick hand around my length, knotting his other hand in my hair. I mirrored his movements. We stood there, working each others cocks, kissing deeply. Outside, the door shut and I could hear movement. I broke our kiss.

"Guess he's home early." He giggled, blushing.

"Fuck. What do we do?"

He dropped to his knees in front of me and took me into his mouth. I leaned back against the shower wall and ran my fingers through his soapy hair. I could still hear his roommate rustling around through the door. Then there was knocking.

"Hurry up! I need to use the facilities." His accent was thick, hard to understand through the door and the sound of the water.

John pulled away from me and shouted, "gonna have to wait a minute!" and then resumed his ministrations.

I started to protest when my vision darkened at the edges. I felt myself rushing toward the cliffs of my ecstasy and I came hard into his mouth, his tongue still working the veiny underside of my member. He stood and smiled dopily at me. We rinsed ourselves off and got out of the shower, he handed me a charcoal grey towel.

"Seriously, Jack, you must hurry!"

"Jack?" I whispered.

"Nickname, no one really calls me that anymore, but like him and my dad." he whispered back, shoving a leg into his sleep pants.

"It's kind of hot."

"Bullshit."

He opened the door as soon as we were dressed, a rush of cool air hit my face. The roommate was on the other side of the threshold, his eyes widened when he saw me, we all traded places and the door was slammed. John giggled and walked back into the living room.

"You get to meet Laf!"

"Seems like I do."

The roommate returned and shook the remaining water off his hands and offered one to me. I shook it. He was dark skinned, with a plume of tightly curled hair, a full, but manicured beard cropped close to his face. He dressed smartly but with an avant garde flair.

"Lafayette, this is Alexander. Alexander, Lafayette." John introduced us.

Lafayette's cheeks burned, clearly embarrassed to have caught us.

"Enchanté de faire votre connaissance." I smiled at him.

His jaw dropped, "tu parle français?"

I nodded.

"This is bullshit." John grumbled.

"We are only saying hello, he speaks French."

"I noticed." John retorted.

"Jetez vos pantalons?" I couldn't resist.

Lafayette blushed harder.

"Oh, yeah, we watched netflix, just because I don't understand, doesn't mean the same is true for him."

"My apologies, I will be making myself scarce, away to Hercules' house." He gathered some things and put his shoes back on.

"Just a few hours would be great." John made a face.

"Hours? Oh my, usually you only need seven minutes."

"Shut up and go away."

"It was nice to meet you, Alexander."

"Likewise." I waved to him as he left.

"Sorry." John bit his lip.

"He's nice."

"Yeah, Laf's a good guy. Now, where were we?"

"Pretty sure you just rocked my world."

"That's right, now back to bed."

I felt myself lightening, he brought out a certain carefree bliss in me. We curled under the blankets, shedding clothes before he settled in the crook of my elbow as we kissed.

"Any other languages?" He asked once we'd come up for air.

"Just the three."

"Oh, sure, just, why do you know French?"

"My mom was French Creole."

"Louisiana?"

"Well, her grandparents were from Louisiana, then my grandmother moved to Puerto Rico to be with my grandfather, and then there's me, but my mom always spoke French."

"That's so cool. I wish my Spanish was better."

"I've always just been good with language."

"Not me, I'm all about the visual, that's why it's a good thing you're so pretty."

I kissed him again, probing his mouth with my tongue, he was warm and soft and sweet. My hands searched his skin, feeling all the toned, hard places on his body. I trailed to his hips, he was perfect all over. He reached between my legs and felt how hard I was again.

"Alexander, will you let me make love to you?" My name sounded so good on his lips.

"Yeah, sure, you can fuck me." I rolled my eyes.

"I don't want to fuck you, I want to please you, take care of you, make you feel good." He straddled me and rubbed my chest, running his fingers over the patch of hair between my pecs.

I held on to his hips, looking up at him. He was a beauty to behold, eyes dark with want. He opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube. I started to roll over, but he caught me.

"What are you-?"

"No, you're okay, stay put." He hitched my leg up, bending it at the knee and he circled a lubed finger around my entrance. A chill cascaded up my spine as he pressed slowly. I felt each knuckle as it entered me. He smiled down at me and leaned onto my knee.

"This alright?" He asked, quickening his pace.

"Feels so good." I closed my eyes, he added a second finger and slowly my body accepted it, my breath coming more shallow.

"You want me?"

"You know I fucking want you."

He removed his fingers and rolled a condom over his shaft before positioning himself between my legs. I adjusted my pose to give him better access. I felt his tip pushing against me.

"Just breathe. I won't hurt you."

I looked away from him as he slid his length into me, I tensed at the burn, but he was gentle, more than anyone else who'd ever had me.

"Feels good." I breathed.

"Yeah, you let me know if I hurt you. I wanna be good to you."

"So good. Fuck me."

"Shh, relax, let me be good to you." He found a rhythm with his hips, I pushed into his slow thrusts, he let his weight drop toward my chest and kissed me, he was so tender. No one had ever been so tender before.

"You don't want to just fuck me?" I asked between thrusts.

"No, baby, I want to make you come. I want to make you feel so good, make you say my name."

"John. Yes. John." I whined.

He quickened his pace almost imperceptibly and thrust himself even deeper, hitting my prostate. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached up to knot my fingers in his hair.

"Yeah, that's it. That's it, come for me."

Deeper, slower, pressure welled in my belly, warmth spreading throughout my core, vibrating my limbs. I came in a mess between us and felt him hot and wet inside me, growling my name.

"You're fucking gorgeous when you come." He pulled the condom off and threw it away, I started to sit up but he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me and wiped my belly with a baby wipe. My skin prickled at the cold sensation, he tossed it in the trash can on top of the condom.

"Cigarette." I pursed my lips and stood up, pulling on the sweatpants he'd loaned me.

"Fire escape off the living room."

"Yeah, no problem. Had fun."

I stepped outside, his definition of a fire escape was my definition of a balcony. I crouched down and took the first drag off the cigarette. It tasted like I'd never had one before. I finished the smoke and went back inside, he was still in bed, now under the blankets, arm behind his head, phone in his other hand, eyes glued to the screen. I joined him in the bed.

"You doing alright?" He asked, moving his arm from behind his head to wrap it around me.

"Yeah, that was… pretty incredible."

"Nah, just what you deserve. That's new for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Lean into it, you might like it." He pressed a kiss to my temple.

"I don't really do affection. I don't really do cuddling. I definitely don't do relationships."

"When's the last time you tried?"

"High school?"

"What was that, like ten years ago? Try again."

"Things don't go well for people who stick around me, you're sweet, and you're cute, but I know how this ends."

He sat up and hovered over me, hair falling around his face, "don't assume things about me, Alexander. Haven't I proved you wrong once already today?"

I looked at him through my lashes and sighed, "this doesn't end well for you… for either of us."

"I'll risk it. You're worth a gamble."

"Why? What do you see in me that's so worthy?"

He put his weight into his elbow and ran his thumb over my cheek, "you're wicked smart, your eyes are insane, you got a body that won't quit, you're Puerto Rican, you're sensitive. What's not to like?"

I felt heat rush to my face, "over fifteen years of issues? The loss of every significant person in my life, a cocktail of mental health issues, mild alcoholism for fun. We're colleagues. Look at you, though, I'm a waste of your time."

"Everyone's got baggage. I've got my own, too, so what if yours is a little louder, little heavier than mine? I'm strong, I can help you carry it."

"That's a mistake."

"I've made plenty of mistakes, if, and that's a big if, you're a mistake, I think you'll be my favourite one."

"What the hell?" I smiled up at him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He kissed me.


	7. Chapter 7

I had to work hard to keep things under wraps at work. Adams kept putting us together on projects, some bullshit about how our visions for stories lined up. I refused to acknowledge John in any way that seemed friendly or cordial in the office. I had broken so many rules, but work life balance was not going to be one of them. An email pinged my inbox.

 _I will be out of the office this afternoon and will not return until Thursday, emergency correspondence should take place via my cell. Regards._

Surprise, another day of golfing, that's what the email from my superior had to mean. I rolled my eyes, but if he was out of the office, maybe I could loosen up a little bit, we could at least go to lunch under the guise of work. As if by telepathy, John materialized in my cube moments later.

"I'm pretty hungry." He leaned against the wall.

"Interesting, I find myself in a similar predicament."

"What's for lunch?"

I peeled my eyes away from my computer monitor and looked at him, I had to resist the urge to remark that he should be my lunch.

"Don't care, let's go."

Once we were down the block and around the corner he took my hand, I didn't pull away, he was infectiously warm and our hands fit together too well together to deny him.

"You should come over for dinner tonight. Lafayette's been chomping at the bit to get to know you." He was talking animatedly while I smoked.

"Why does he want to get to know me?"

"Because he can tell you're important to me. I've met plenty of his conquests, it's the least he can do. Honestly, this is my longest relationships in a minute."

"It's been what, like, two weeks?"

"I don't have very good luck. Usually things for me only last a night." He sounded sheepish.

"I don't get it. How are you not married off with like fourteen kids by now?"

He laughed, "I don't really attract that type of guy."

I considered myself, "fair point."

"I've never been good with love and relationships, I don't really know how to find them, and most guys just take me home and then don't call."

"Then how is the whole, 'angry and bitter' thing my schtick?"

"I guess I'm a hopeless romantic."

"Or a masochist."

"Maybe that too. So dinner?"

"What's on the menu?"

"Jeez, you're the worst, I don't know, either we order in or Laf will cook something. He's a really good cook."

"Fine. What time should I be there?"

"Seven should be fine."

We ate our lunch in the deli and kept conversation light and friendly, masking the desire on our faces. I couldn't believe that I was being so domestic, all the warning bells rang in my mind, but I ignored them.

After work I hurried home and changed into something more comfortable than the button down I'd donned for work, and coiffed my hair into a bun, then made my way to the bodega to buy a bottle of wine. I stopped at the flower stand on the way to the apartment, still kicking myself for becoming this domesticated version of myself. I had pushed away the memory of just how nice his building was, the doorman greeted me and I went upstairs, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"You really came!" John hugged me and ushered me in.

"Hello!" Lafayette called from the kitchen.

"I brought… stuff." I brandished the flowers and wine.

"These are lovely," he smelled them, "Laf he brought you wine!"

I followed him to the kitchen. His roommate was taller and even more handsome than I remembered, I felt unfit to be in the company of two men of their caliber.

"It is the way to my heart, be careful and hold tight, Jack, that I will not steal him away from you."

"Try me." John retorted.

 _Really, all that over me?_

"Dinner is almost ready. Relax. Soon, I will be done and we can eat."

John opened the wine and poured three glasses. I sniffed it and gulped, tending to favour spirits.

"I'm so glad you came. How's the story you're writing going?" He sat on the sofa next to me and leaned in under my arm. I accepted the affection.

"I finished it earlier, actually."

"Seriously, wasn't it like a full run, really long, like holy shit sort of story?"

"Yeah."

"You're amazing, I don't know how you do it."

I shrugged, smelling his strawberry hair. Lafayette was humming to himself in the kitchen. Maybe this wouldn't hurt me. At least no more than I deserved. We sat quietly, both exhausted. John held his wine glass close, his free hand fiddling with a fray on my jeans.

"Dinner is ready, mon amies!" Lafayette called from the kitchen.

We rose and joined him in the dining area. He'd set the table beautifully, candles flickered on the tablescape.

"Sit, sit please. Enjoy." He beckoned.

It smelled delightful. I picked my fork up and took a bite. It was delicious.

"You've outdone yourself." John smiled to his friend.

"It is a big occasion."

The roulade he'd made held together, a smoky char on the outside, juicy and tender inside. Roasted vegetables at either side.

"Alexander, Jackie tells me you are an immigrant. As am I."

"Is it too bold to assume France?"

"Haute-Loire, south central France," he beamed, "and you are from Puerto Rico, it is American though, no?"

"Technically. You wouldn't know it, though. But, yes, that's why it was so easy for me to move here."

"Yes, you were young when you come, says Jack, I come to America in high school and fell in love with it. We meet and then I decided to stay."

"I just can't get rid of him." John shook his head.

"You don't try very hard." Lafayette was playful.

"It's like herpes with an afro… I don't have real herpes." John blushed, hit foot firmly in his mouth.

"You're a really good cook." I changed the subject, John stole a glance, his eyes grateful for the new topic.

"Thank you, but it is only my French heritage. This is nothing very special."

"You're too humble, Laf."

"I must say, though, I am confused. John is Puerto Rican, I did not think that they made beautiful people there, but I meet you and my mind has changed." Lafayette smirked as John turned red and gulped from his wine glass.

"You're such an ass." John shook his head.

"What? He is far more attractive than you." Lafayette winked at him, I couldn't hold my laughter back.

"You're a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" I asked of John.

He shrugged, "daddy issues."

We all laughed and continued the meal in merriment, the wine fogged my mind, lifting my spirits. After the empty china was cleared from the table, we set up a board game. John tried to teach me the rules, slowly I grasped them.

"So, I can't make a settlement here?" I pointed at a tile on the board.

"Nope, you have to have two roads between each place."

I strategized my best move and sat the little house on a tile.

"Oh, why would you put it there, that was destined for me." Lafayette grumbled, rolling the dice.

"C'est là que vous avez tort!" I laughed back.

"Me? Wrong, certainly not." He build a road, cutting off my westward expansion.

"No, hey, French is off limits." John whined.

"Just a little trash talk. I wanted to make sure he understood me." I elbowed John.

It quickly became apparent that the game was between Lafayette and I, we made a mad dash toward victory while John trailed behind. Neck in neck, I won.

"Beginner's luck." Lafayette rolled his eyes.

"You did better than me, Laf." John sounded supportive.

"A cat would do better than you, Jackie." He chided as we put the pieces away.

"Rude."

"Gentlemen, if you don't mind, I'm going to retire. Alexander, a pleasure." Lafayette stood.

"Night." John smiled.

"Good night." I echoed.

"Come to bed with me." John whispered once Lafayette's door shut.

I shrugged and followed him, once we were in his bedroom he kicked his shoes off. It was marginally cleaner than the last time I'd seen it. John flopped onto his bed. I kicked my own shoes off and lie down beside him.

"Wanna watch something?" He opened his laptop.

"We're not just going to fuck?" I eyed him suspiciously.

"I mean, maybe, but I'm trying to spend time with you."

"The Office was pretty funny."

"That's why I like you." He turned off the light and set the laptop on my chest, curling into my side.

We started the episode and he snuggled even closer to me.

"Man, Roy's such a jerk." he sighed.

"I thought you like jerks."

"Oh, please, even you can see that Roy's an asshole."

"He is."

John felt around under the blankets and cupped my soft member. I felt blood rush to it at his touch.

"Is this what we're doing? Are you 'Netflix and Chill'ing' me?" I asked, looking down at him.

"Maybe, I am. I just wanted to touch."

"Be my guest."

We finished the episode and his touch became more needy, he palmed me through my jeans. I tilted my hips into his touch.

"You're super sexy." He bit his lip.

"I can't fucking handle the lip biting. Ever since I met you it's driven me fucking crazy."

I kissed him, taking his bottom lip between my teeth, it was soft and supple. He intensified the pressure on my crotch.

"Clothes off." I demanded.

He obliged and made himself naked, I followed suit. His skin was so warm and soft, he fell back into the same position, laying in the crook of my arm, hand on my bare - now hard - cock.

"You're too sexy." He moaned and kissed again.

"Tell me what you want."

"Please touch me." His voice was breathy, almost a whine.

"Maybe you should suck me off first."

"You want that?"

"Oh yeah, make me come good enough and I'll treat you right."

"Anything for you."

He slunk down my body, placing kisses on my chest and stomach, he suckled at my hips and nosed the crop of hair around the base of my shaft, nipping the base softly. I exhaled heavily at the sensation. He sucked up and down the veiny underside, getting it impossibly wet. I grunted, shifting my hips in his direction. He swirled his tongue around my tip, flatten it across my slit. I panted and gripped the sheets. He took me into his mouth and went deep, swallowing my cock.

"Fuck, John, yes." I thrust almost imperceptibly.

He swallowed, his throat flexing around my engorged cock. I thrust, gripping his hair for leverage. My toes curled as I felt my orgasm rush toward me.

"That's right, take my cock. Swallow it."

He wiped his mouth, "so you can be dirty. I was starting to wonder."

"You like dirty?" I asked him.

"Sometimes, I just figured with you being you, that you'd be a little rougher, you've been so tender in bed, I was curious. I think it was hot, though."

He kissed me, "will you stay?"

"What?"

"Stay with me tonight. Sleep with me. I have you, I don't want to be lonely anymore." His eyes found mine in the darkness.

"I really don't do the whole-"

"Please, Alexander, don't make me beg. Let me hold you tonight."

I relented, "fine."

He wrapped his arms around me and quickly fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm not terribly convinced that I know where this is going, but it's backstory time! John's is historically accurate (within reason). I love reviews! Enjoy.**

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Waking up disoriented was nothing new for me, usually I pushed my body until it refused to function and fell asleep wherever. It was light out, sun peeking through the blinds in stripes. I was nuzzled - _nuzzled -_ into him. John. Nuzzled? Not my bed, nice duvet. So warm. Strawberries. Cozy. Safe. _Safe?_ Time to go, can't stay. Fuck, I stayed. Get out. Naked. Find pants. Sneak out of the bed, so cozy. I slid out of his bed, he stayed sleeping, mouth slack and open, his hair _was_ a splash on the pillow. Beautiful. Beautiful. Cut the shit, Alex, find your pants. Pants. There! I bent down to get them. Not my pants. Other pants on the floor. Still not my pants. Jesus Christ. Wait, those are my boxers, good start. I pulled them on. My shirt, also good. Pants? There! Victory, finally. Pulled them on. Socks? I fell asleep with socks, right? Fuck. Maybe I don't need socks. No, I need socks, not wearing socks is gross. Felt around the foot of the bed, found one. Found two. Okay, dressed. Shoes? By the door. Dinner last night. Okay. Fuck. The roommate. Maybe he's asleep still? Please be asleep still. I opened the door as silently as possible and tiptoed out. It was dark in the apartment, Lafayette either gone or still asleep. I didn't wait around to find out, stepped into my shoes and left. Stupid. I lit up on the walk to the subway.

"You're getting soft, Alex. Catching feelings." I muttered to myself, I coughed, a wet mucousy sound from deep in my chest and flicked my cigarette out before descending the stairs to the train.

It arrived quickly and I got on the too full car. Once I was back to my apartment I flung myself into work. Hours skipped on without me paying much attention to their passage and my phone buzzed in my pocket.

He was calling.

Decline.

More work.

Buzz.

Decline.

Got a bowl of cereal.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Texts. I glanced at them.

 **Had fun last night.**

 **Sorry you ran off before I woke up.**

 **I want to do it again.**

 **Cool. Well, you're probably doing that thing where you pretend you hate me. So, have fun with that, I'll just be here pining for you.**

Buzz.

A dick pic. A fucking dick pic. Hard in his hard. Thumb swiping the tip. You're kidding me. I bit down on my lip. This would helpful late at night. I saved it to my camera roll and kept working. A half hour passed.

Buzz.

 **Really? Nothing to that? Hmm….**

I couldn't concentrate, and the story that I was writing was almost finished. I'd gotten ahead of the work that needed to be done. I drafted a text and sent it.

 **Okay, fine. You win.**

He replied almost instantly.

 **Did it take you that long to get yourself off? I could have done it quicker.**

I bet he could have. C'mon, Alex, don't catch feelings. He's too perfect to hurt. You're gonna hurt him, he's gonna hurt you. This is all bad.

 **Hah. Very funny. I've been working. Being productive. Unlike some people, who just play with their cocks all day.**

Another text.

 **That's why they made Saturdays, you're the odd one. Let me come over, I'll show you.**

I replied expeditiously.

 **No.**

Another picture, my heart skipped, it was a selfie of him pouting. Lip stuck out dramatically, eyebrows together, freckles everywhere. I turned my phone off and pulled out my pack of cigarettes. He was going to be the death of me. I spent the rest of the night trying to read a book. I kept thinking of him pouting, dick in hand, thinking of me. It set me on edge. I grumbled to myself and turned my phone back on.

 **Fine. Come over.**

I made a quick attempt to tidy my place, even made the bed, though it was hard to shimmy around it as it filled almost all of the space. He knocked at the door. I answered.

"I knew I'd win." He was smug.

I crashed myself into him, slamming the door behind us as I dragged him to the bed. I shoved him down, we were a tangle of desperate limbs struggling with clothing that clung like octopi to our bodies.

"Need you." I rolled him over, and with already lubed fingers prepped him quickly. He took it with hisses and moans. I slapped his ass and positioned myself to enter him.

I stayed quiet, drunk on his moans while I fucked him hard, fast and to the hilt. He whined my name. I gripped his hair hard at the root, yanking his head back, he yelped, a breathy pleading sound and ground against the mattress. I let my orgasm build, never breaking the throttling pace I'd set. He bucked against me, enough to throw me over the edge. I fell into him, panting into his shoulder blade. I bit the angular flesh hard enough to summon a squeak from him, I flipped him back over and finished him in my hands. His face was bright red, his doe eyes, shimmering and damp.

He let out a deep breath, "see that's what I was expecting from you."

"Well, you got it. Proud of yourself?"

"A little, yeah."

"You don't have to leave right away."

He smiled like he didn't need permission.

"I know you said you don't cuddle, but maybe an exception?"

I bit my lip, drawing the taste of iron, I swiped it away with my tongue, but relented, he looked so pretty, so wanton for affection. I lie back down and let him fold into my side, both of our bodies still sticky with sweat.

"I don't really know what to do." I mused.

"You're doing a good job, but, here," he moved my arm to the small of his back.

"Okay. You like this?" I was genuinely curious, feeling how stiff my body was.

"Yeah, relax a little. Come on, you have to know how to cuddle."

"Not really. I guess that's something you can forget."

"Dude, when are you going to tell me why you're like this?"

"What?"

He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Who broke you?"

I closed my eyes against the memories.

"Alexander?"

Nope." I tore out of bed and hopped in the shower, letting tears slip out and blend with the mist.

I washed myself furiously, vigorously, skin turning red under my hands. I dried off and stalked out of the bathroom. He was clothed now and sat criss cross on the bed, he looked determined.

"We're gonna do this." He said, voice low and authoritative.

"Drop it." I opened the drawers of my bureau and dressed.

"No. _I said_ , we're gonna do this."

"Why? Why do you care so fucking much?" I threw my hands up.

"I don't know, I guess I'm falling for you!" He threw his hands up, too.

"Well, that's… That's pretty stupid!"

"You're not the first guy to call me stupid, but I don't think you mean it. This is an act. I can tell! I can tell this isn't real!" He sat up on his knees, better leverage to get in my face.

"So? Maybe it is real!"

"It isn't."

"You don't know anything about me, John! We fuck sometimes, whatever. Don't make this something it isn't."

"Alexander, please, God. Just fucking let someone in! Someone who likes you, someone who might want to love you someday."

"No!"

"Please." He gripped my hand in both of his.

I jerked away, "no."

"Let me in," his eyes shone and he begged, "please."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, "I need a drink, do you want one?"

"Yes, please."

"Whiskey okay?"

"It's fine."

I poured us both two fingers and returned with the bottle to sit on the bed, criss cross, facing him. I couldn't look at him.

"Junior year, I was with a girl, amazing girl, I got her pregnant, we made a plan, get a little place in Harlem, figure it out. Keep the baby, be a family. Well, so her parents found out. They kept us apart, told me what a piece of shit I was, pulled her out of school. She… lost the baby. I didn't take it well. I was trying to cope. I cheated on her with another girl... and a guy... and another girl. She blamed me too, doctors told her she'd maybe never be able to get pregnant again. Seventeen and that's already taken away from her? She'd have been such a good mom, too, sweetest human you'd ever meet. I wonder what happened to her, her family moved that summer. I never saw her again. So I tried to get normal again, right? Started college, got a boyfriend, he knew all my shit, he didn't come from a great family, kicked him out when he came out, all that shit, we dated my whole sophomore year of university, he killed himself, blamed me in the note he left, told me it was my fault because I missed all the signs. Shit doesn't turn out well for people who get close to me." I gulped back the whiskey, relishing the sting in my throat and nostrils.

John was tearing up.

"Alexander… none of that is your fault."

"Fuck off. I'm a magnet for misery."

"No, you aren't you've just been in the wrong place for too long, I want to be your right place. Things can be good."

I shook my head and refilled my glass and sipped it reverently, "not for me."

"Stop."

"It's true."

"No, it isn't. Bad shit's happened to me, too. Is that my fault?"

"Probably not." I hung my head, letting my hair curtain my face. I didn't want him to see me crying like a bitch.

He reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear.

"See. It's not your fault either."

"It is."

"No, Alex, no it's not."

He never called me Alex before, no one had since Eliza. I wept and he moved closer to hold me. I pushed away but he was so strong. His legs on either side of my hips and his arms around my chest. I sobbed into my glass.

"Hey, now. Stop that. Shh, you're okay."

I sniffled and asked in a small voice, "now that you have my heart on my sleeve what's so terrible about you?"

He chuckled weakly, "my dad's a piece of shit, he's a lawyer back home, super conservative, real proud of his fag son, my mom died when I was little, and I kind of went full lost boy. I got in all sorts of fights, mostly with asshole confederate good ole boys, they're all over in South Carolina. Actually got shot once. I was on probation for a while. Good times."

"No shit?" I perked up and turned around to look at him.

"Yup. We all sort ourselves out in our own ways." He pulled his shirt aside and just faintly on his shoulder was a pucker of flesh, masked by freckles, a perfect circle.

"Holy shit, you're a total badass."

"Nope, just couldn't turn down fights. I straightened myself out, though. That's part of why I went to school up here, though. Wanted to get away from all that history. Figured where else do you go but New York to be a new man?"

"Fair point. So, what were all these fights over?"

"Gay rights. Racial equality. You know."

"You're such a nerd, you got shot over social issues?"

"Well, no, that one was because I misread a situation and was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I shook my head, "you seem so... not like that."

"I know, it's because of you, I've always been sheepish when I meet pretty boys. So, Alexander, you've seen my ugly, I've seen yours. I still like you. You still like me?"

He was the first person I'd ever been so open with, "fine, yes."

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

"Nope, that's too far, I'll be exclusive or whatever, but boyfriend just sounds too cheesy."

"Fine. Will you kiss me?"

I kissed him softly, loving the way that whiskey tasted on him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks to Shadow and Mimi for your reviews, I really appreciate them and they are good incentives for me to churn out new content. Thanks for reading!**

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I'd been ignoring him all night, silenced my phone, working. I knew he'd been texting me, calling, but I had shit to do. I finished my assignment and stepped out on the fire escape - a real fire escape, not his studio sized balcony - for a cigarette, the dying sun felt good on my face. I crouched down and rubbed my eyes, exhausted from all the work I'd put in, hadn't slept a full night in almost a week, woken up this morning bent over my desk. Didn't leave the office until six. My stomach growled and I ignored it, snuffing out my smoke. Back to work. I glanced at my phone, the most recent text was only a few minutes ago.

 **Okay, Indian it is. See you soon.**

Confused, I read through the other texts he'd sent me over the course of the last three hours since he'd left work.

 **You looked really good today, I like those jeans.**

 **They'd look better on my floor though, ayyyyy.**

 **Ignore that… I'm an idiot.**

 **What are you doing tonight?**

 **Laf says hi, or bonjour or whatever.**

 **Come over?**

 **Are you still at the office still?**

 **I'm hungry and 90% sure you're home.**

 **Thai or Indian?**

I rolled my eyes and got back to work, there was a knock at the door. I opened it and found him in the hallway with a takeout sack in his arms.

"Brought you dinner." He smiled.

"I see that. How did you know I was home?"

"You don't like people. There aren't people here."

I considered his argument and found no points I could argue against. He sat the food down in the living room and kicked off his sneakers, flopped on the couch and sorted out which container was for each of us. Reluctantly, I sat beside him.

"Why'd you bring me dinner? I didn't answer any of your texts."

"Because I knew you hadn't eaten and probably wouldn't unless someone forced you. You've been doing the work-robot thing extra hard lately."

"You win this round." I tucked in to my curry.

John was making pleasant conversation, I was watching him talk, animated, his eyes lighting when he remembered something, he looked so perfect, so right on my sofa, legs tucked up criss cross, forkful of rice suspended in the air, forgotten as he told a story, I listened, nothing beneficial to add to his monologue, grateful for the food, dead tired.

"That's enough from me. You still working tonight?"

I nodded.

"Think you'll be done soon?"

I evaluated what I still had to do, "I'm caught up for the most part, I still have a story to transpose, but other than that, I think I could be mostly done."

"Let me take you out?"

I furrowed my brow, "out where?"

"Anywhere you want, we could go to Sofrito, or there's some club that Laf and Hercules are going to - I don't think you've met Herc before, he's a good guy, Laf's head over heels for him, - or we could go see a movie."

I turned my gaze to the floor, mulling it over, Sofrito ends in me getting too drunk, being stupid. New club, new place, new person to meet, ends in me getting way too drunk, being really stupid, maybe a bar brawl? Movies, dark, so it feels like less people, could fool around with John, sneak in a bottle and only get a little drunk.

"What movies are out?" I asked, having no concept or awareness.

"There's a superhero movie, there's a scary movie… about aliens? I think there's a romantic comedy."

"Aliens. Definitely."

John looked up showtimes on his phone and I finished my curry before dressing down into a hoodie, the one that i had confirmed looked better on him than me and grabbed my flask from the cabinet, filled it with rum, and retrieved a package of skittles from a different cabinet.

"There's a ten o'clock, so we'll leave here in about twenty minutes."

"Sounds good." I pulled open his sport coat and tucked my snacks into the interior pocket and laid the lapel back down, patting it in place, he gave me a curious look.

"Me sneaking victuals into a theatre is really the moment where you're going to question whether or not I have moral high ground? You've seen far more questionable things from me to just now wonder if I'm a societal deviant. Surely, you're smarter than that, Jack?" His nickname slipped off my tongue, and I wanted it back, to undo, unsay, but fuck it, it was out there.

He blushed and screwed up his face chewing the inside of his cheek.

"It's cute when you say that." His voice barely above a whisper.

"I know." I bluffed, and stalked away to find my chucks.

We left for the movie and he grabbed my hand on the walk to the subway, I let him, didn't make any attempts to squirm away, not necessarily holding on either, but it seemed good enough for him. I insisted on buying tickets, since he'd brought dinner over and he insisted on buying snacks, buying an obscenely large coke for us to share and a slightly more rationally sized popcorn. We settled into our seats, early enough that commercials, but not previews were playing, I reached into his jacket and retrieved my contraband, he made another face at me.

"You keep doing that and your face is gonna get stuck that way."

"What?" He laughed, mostly at the absurdity of the old maternal comment.

I shrugged and took a sip and coke and a pull from my flask, making my own sip sized cocktail.

"Oh, aren't you slick?" He giggled.

"What, you didn't know that trick? What did you even do in high school?"

"Well, other than sports, mostly just get in fights, smoke dope, but we just drank from the bottle."

I passed him my flask, "try it."

"Okay? Like this?" His voice was quizzical and embarrassed.

He bent over the coke, looking up at me while he gulped, _don't fucking do that_ , and then a drink from the flask, he swallowed.

"I think that was more coke than anything." He decided.

"Well, you get better at it."

The lights dimmed and I opened my skittles, muffling the sound during a loud part of a trailer, and continued my mouth cocktail mastery. I offered skittles to him, he took one.

The movie started and my hand found his thigh. I rubbed a small circle with my thumb over his leg and felt him shifting in the seat beside me. I chuckled internally, proud of my handiwork. He returned the motion on my own leg, and I was the one shifting in my seat. We continued our game of red light through the movie, though as it grew more intense John became more enamored and took his hand back, _I win_ , he gripped my hand still on his thigh at a jump scare, I laughed, trying to stay quiet. He fell prey to every loud noise, every scary scene that the producers felt the need to inundate audiences with. It was cute to watch.

As the movie intensified, the ending coming, I wanted to fuck with him and adjusted my position to put a leg under me to give me more leverage and at the next scary part, leaned over to nibble at his ear. He made a small sound that was equal parts horror, shock, and if I were to be so bold, arousal. Another laugh from me as I took a swig from the flask. The movie ended and the lights came on, I could see John's arousal and chuckled another victory to myself.

"You're horrible." John laughed, collecting his trash, offering to take my flask back.

"Yup."

He turned his phone on, it was about midnight and I could see the flood of texts hit his phone, I felt a pang of jealousy, not sure whether to attribute it to the fact that other people wanted John's time, or that he had other people in his life and what did I have?

"Ugh, apparently they're still going hard. Want to stop by and see Lafayette make a fool of himself?"

The little buzz from the rum and the promise of having 'make-a-fool-of-themselves' highground, I agreed.

"So, Hercules is a fashion advisor, he's starting to become hot shit, styled Zendaya for the Grammy's last year, whatever, but he and Laf are totally in love, it's ridiculous, I think Laf loves him for his wardrobe, and I'm pretty sure Herc thinks it gives him more fashion street cred to be dating a French guy." John filled me in on the subway, we had the car to ourselves. Once he was finally done rambling, I kissed him, pressed him into the bench and grabbed a fistful of hair, he moaned into my mouth and I deepened our kiss. We heard our stop being called and I let go of him, helping him stand as we exited the train. The club was almost directly up the stairs, I smoked a quick cigarette and let John lead us in, we paid our cover fee, I rant that I would have later and John found his friends. I realized how underdressed, or maybe just over clothed we - but especially me in my hoodie - were. I spotted Lafayette and we made our way through the crowds, loud bass trembling through the building. So many people. Lafayette pulled me into a hug, I felt myself stiffen, but he let go quickly, smelled like vodka, he seemed gangly while drunk, his long arms and legs betraying him as we stood around the high table. I was introduced to Hercules, he was stocky, strong handshake, warm grin. He was the kind of cool guy who was able to make a beanie work with his suit, I took in his outfit and grumbled internally about knowing nothing about fashion. Lafayette was in an impossibly tight tank top with even tighter leather pants. Hercules had a firm hand on Lafayette, steadying him. John disappeared to get drinks for us.

"You're a journalist, right?" Hercules shouted over the music.

I nodded.

"John won't fucking shut up about you."

Lafayette lay dramatically over the table, "it's true! Alexander this and Alex that."

Hercules pulled Lafayette back to a standing position and whispered something in his ear that seemed to sober him a little bit. I took in the surroundings, the dancefloor was busy, but seemed to be thinning out, flashing lights illuminated the people dancing, there was a DJ in the corner wearing a mesh top. I rolled my eyes. John returned with our drinks and I noticed myself shuffle closer to him, wanting to smell his strawberry fucking hair.

"Comment bois-tu ça, mon ami?" Lafayette asked John, John shrugged, understanding nothing.

Hercules was chastising Lafayette for speaking French to John since no one understood him. Lafayette was whining that English was too hard, I whispered the translation into John's ear.

"He's asking how you drink that stuff." I pointed to his beer.

"It's good!" John asserted to Lafayette.

Lafayette's eyes lit up and he wheeled around the table and slung an arm around me, declaring, "tu es mon meilleur ami! Tu me comprends!" I was stiff at the physical contact. Hercules grabbed Lafayette and let him lean against him.

"What?" John asked.

"I'm his best friend now, because I understand him." I translated, shifting even closer to John.

"Great then you can go home with him and let him take care of you in the morning." Hercules told Lafayette.

John wrapped his arm around my waist, the weight of his touch was comforting as much as I hated to admit it.

"Danser avec moi?" Lafayette shouted at anyone of us.

"What?" Hercules shouted back.

"He wants to dance!" I translated again.

"He's your problem." John laughed.

Hercules grudgingly followed Lafayette to the dancefloor.

John turned to face me, rubbing my lower back, "dance with me?"

"I don't dance.'

"Of course you don't, come on."

He kept his hand on the small of my back and guided me to the darkest, emptiest corner of the floor. He took my hands and started dancing, I swayed from side to side, nothing compared to John. He turned away from me and placed my hands on his hips, grinding up against me. I moaned at the contact and he slid down before popping back up in perfect time to the music. I watched him in awe, and kept swaying to the beat. After a few songs he was tired and wanted another drink, I got this round. Lafayette was still dancing, Hercules had his hands on Lafayette's arms, to most it would look like he was just dancing with him, but I could tell that it was an attempt to keep the gangly Frenchman upright. John clinked his glass with mine.

"Thanks for coming out with me. You having an alright time?" He leaned over to ask me.

"I'm okay. You're a really good dancer."

He blushed and looked away, licking foam from the head of his beer. I shifted. Hercules found us and posted Lafayette at our table. He leaned heavily on John. Most of his hair had freed itself of its ponytail and poofed around his face.

"You're gonna hurt tomorrow." John told him.

Lafayette laced his fingers together around John's shoulders, a desperate attempt to stay standing. John's hand never left my back, though his other hand was now clenching Lafayette's elbow. Hercules returned with waters and shoved one at Lafayette.

"It is not a vodka and lemonade." Lafayette held the bottle of water up to inspect it.

"No, it's water so you don't fucking die." Hercules pulled Lafayette off of John, claiming responsibility.

"Come do a shot with me." John whispered.

"Done." I'm always up for liquid courage and followed him to the bar.

John ordered shots for us. We downed them, his face screwed up cute when the burn stung his throat. I ordered the next round. I felt more socially lubricated and John seemed to be feeling lowered inhibitions too as he grabbed my ass walking back to the table, I couldn't find it in me to be embarrassed. He pulled me back to the dancefloor, this time I was more willing to move, though I did far less in the grinding category than he was. I turned him to face me and pulled him against me, kissing him hard, his hips still moving. I felt him hard against my hip, knowing he could feel my own hardness on his thigh.

As we broke apart, Hercules caught my attention, I told John that we should go and see what he needed.

"I'm taking him home before he makes an even bigger scene. You guys coming with?"

"Are you going back to our place?" John asked.

"I don't really care, want to split an Uber?"

John looked at me, I shrugged.

"Yeah, sure. Let's go."

We went outside and the cool evening air seemed to sober Lafayette up. Our Uber arrived, a midsize hatchback. I waited to get in until everyone was settled, Hercules claimed the front seat. John sat in the middle between Lafayette and myself. I could see the glaze of alcohol on John's face, he leaned on me, Lafayette practically in his lap. I was far more sober than they were, second only to Hercules who was talking with the Uber driver. Lafayette was quickly snoring on John, who was whispering in my ear.

At John and Lafayette's apartment Hercules quickly pulled Lafayette into his bedroom, it sounded like a struggle with lots of whining, most of it in French. I laughed. John was busy fixing us a snack.

"What's so funny?"

"Lafayette."

I listened to him complaining in his native language:

No! My pants! Don't hurt them! Where are you putting my shoes? Why didn't you let me get food, John gets food. Alexander gets food, why do you hate me? I'm dizzy, cuddle me. Please just feed me!

"What's he saying?" John put down the food and was trying to listen, hearing his own name and then mine.

"It's all just drunken babble, but he's really hungry."

"Of course he is." John slid the frozen pizza in the oven and took me into his bedroom.

"Got eighteen minutes to kill." He pulled me on top of him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Shadow, thank you for your lovely review. I always look forward to hearing what my readers think, it's like currency for this content and I am beyond grateful. Angst-exander Hamilton writes himself so here's another long chapter.**

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I woke up next to John, he was holding me from behind, both of us stripped down to our boxers, plates of half eaten pizza on the bedside table. Last night came flooding back to me in waves. We drank at the club, I got drunker than I realized. Lafayette far worse, John a little worse off than me. The boyfriend, Hercules, he was fine. All came back here, made pizza. I pulled away from John and rolled over to look at him, he was still fast asleep. I stared at him, golden freckled skin glowing in the light coming through the curtains, the faint circle scar visible on his shoulder. I wanted to stay like this forever, with him sleeping he couldn't judge me for staring, and in the haze of waking up I hadn't yet remembered to hate myself for falling for him. The need for a cigarette and a piss won me over after a few minutes and I got out of bed and pulled on my hoodie. I crept to the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Don't come in here." Lafayette moaned.

I ignored my body's needs and stepped onto the balcony for my morning cigarette, leaned against the building. Snuffed one cigarette, lighting another one, buying Lafayette more time to compose himself. John joined me.

"Morning, babe." he yawned casually and wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder.

 _Babe? Babe? Pet names, that's a thing we're doing now?_

"Hi." I said timidly, blowing smoke opposite his direction.

"Sleep okay?" he nuzzled at my neck.

I pulled on the cigarette and nodded, "sorry if I woke you."

"Nah, time to get up anyway. I think Laf might be dead," he was giggling.

"Sounded rough earlier."

"Poor guy has never been able to hold his liquor, never learns though."

I ignored the pressing responsibilities waiting for me at home and resented myself, "want to come back home with me?"

"You mean it? That would be great. I'll let Herc hold down the fort. I won't be in the way, promise."

 _You're never in my way._

"No worries. I just have to get some shit done today."

We got dressed and left, John called a farewell to Lafayette through the door and we both said goodbye to a tired looking Hercules who was ferrying water and advil to the bathroom. I was eager to be back home, back to an empty bathroom, was quick about it, so John could follow after me, I caught sight of myself in the mirror, looking more well rested than I had in a while, eyes less hollow, less shadowy, the new day's stubble high on my cheeks. I brewed a pot of coffee and waited for John's return.

"Do you drink coffee?" I asked, pulling down a mug for myself, not sure of his habits.

"Nope, not really since college, finals are rough."

"Hear hear. You want anything else? I have water… and…"

"I'm fine, Alex, actually, water's good," he was in my kitchen, hips brushing mine as he passed me in the small space, "this cabinet?"

I nodded, it was so domestic, him so close to me. He pulled down a glass and filled it with water from the tap, hand caressing the small of my back as he passed me again. I worked the muscles in my jaw as I poured my coffee, unsure what to think of our - or at least his - new found comfortability with each other.

I sat on the sofa next to him, and yawned.

"So, what's your day look like?" he asked, arm on the back of the couch, hand finding the ends of my hair, twirling it lazily.

I stiffened and stood, too much, too much.

"I actually have some work I need to get done, but you can stay here." _Please stay here. Forever._

"Oh, that's cool. Me too." He opened his messenger bag and started rifling loudly.

I stared at him from my desk across the room and as soon as he felt my gaze his head shot up, I turned my head instantly back to my work. He giggled, I pursed my lips, working my jaw, heat flushing my cheeks. I fell into a rhythm easily, transposing my article for Monday. I could hear his pencil scratching, flashing to when I'd just met him. I kept working. He kept scratching. We worked like this for awhile until his voice, light and musical drew me out of my focus.

"Guys, you know you better watch out, some girls, some girls are only about that thing, that thing." I snapped my head to look at him, laying sprawled on my couch, propped on his elbows, sketchbook and assortment of colored pencils in front of him, ankles crossed in the air, legs bent at the knee, swaying to the music in his big headphones. I chuckled, standing to refill my coffee.

"Lauryn Hill?"

He jumped, pencils clattering to the ground, pulling his headphones around his neck.

"Was I singing out loud?" He flushed crimson.

I nodded, sipping my fresh cup.

"Sorry." He looked away.

 _Don't be, it was cute._ "It's fine, at least you listen to decent music." I couldn't conceal the smile playing at my lips, crinkling my eyes.

We settled back into work. He contained himself to hums every now and again, head swaying to his music. I prodded the keys of my laptop, easily multitasking to overthinking while I transposed. It felt so good to have him here, us just working on our own things, but him still close enough to sense. Listening to the little sighs he'd let out occasionally, grunts as he reached off the couch to retrieve a fallen pencil or something from his bag. He was getting so comfortable with me, even I was more comfortable than I should be. I reminded myself that this wouldn't end well. This was the closest anyone had gotten since Eliza. _Eliza_ , her named burned and stung as it reverberated through my mind. He was too good, too human, too wonderful. I typed even harder, catching his attention.

"You angry with your keyboard?" He laughed from behind me.

I shook loose of my thoughts, "no."

"Sure sounds like it."

"Well, I'm not."

"You want to take a break and do something?"

I ignored him.

"Alex?"

 _Ugh, Alex again, Alex. Why did he have to call me that? Why did it have to sound so good?_

I continued ignoring him. He collected his pencils and I heard him shuffling off the couch, he padded over to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Whatcha doing?"

He stooped and put his chin on the crown of my head, placed a kiss on my greasy scalp and read what was on my screen as my fingers hurried across the keys.

"Are you deaf?" He asked, rubbing my shoulders gently. Everything was him, his scent, the waves of his breath.

I kept working, breathing him in, ignoring him.

"Oh, my god, I get it, I know what this is, this is the 'you pretending you hate me' thing in person, wow! That's amazing." He sounded genuinely interested by my behaviour.

I felt my cheeks burn.

"Can I fuck with you when you're like this? This anti-feelings work-robot? Will you even notice?" He sounded so intrigued, my eyes stayed on my screen and I felt his fingers in my hair, I tuned it out, working actively on not moaning and I turned the page of my writing to keep transposing.

I felt him start working a french braid into my hair and set my jaw, still typing, pretending he wasn't there. He untangled my hair deftly and worked the plait to the ends, securing it with a hair tie on his wrist.

"Nothing? Really? Interesting. Hmm…"

He sat on the floor beside me and I could feel his eyes boring up at me, calculating his next move. He was maneuvering himself under the desk, his lanky body struggling to fit, kicking the wall by accident. I ignored it, kept typing. His hands were on my thighs, up on the button of my jeans, the zipper.

Typing.

Typing.

Typing.

He pulled my soft member out of my boxers and his was mouth warm and wet, my head fell back and I shook it collecting my focus, still typing, he groaned in delight as my erection grew in the back of throat. Sucking, moaning. He giggled around the girth as he heard my backspace key tapping repeatedly, I'd fucked up and forgot how to type for a minute. I surrendered, letting my head fall back against my office chair, a hand fell from my keyboard to his head, gripping his hair, guiding his head. So good. So deep. So wet. My hips stuttered, stomach clenching, toes curling. He made a satisfied noise as I came. I released his hair and slid my chair away from the desk so he could come out and zipped my jeans.

"I win." He grinned satisfied with himself.

"This round."

"Come on, take a break with me."

"I need a cigarette, you can come outside with me if you want."

"I'll take what I can get." He followed me outside.

I lit my cigarette and wiped my eyes, holding it between my lips.

"Why do you do the 'pretending you hate me' thing?" He cocked his head to the side.

I took my smoke between my fingers and flicked its ashes off, returning it to my mouth. I thought about it. _Because I'm breaking about four hundred of my personal rules. Because I hate myself for falling for you. Because you scare me. Because I'm not used to people being nice. Because of how this ends. Because of Eliza. Because I hurt people. I'm good at it._

"I don't know." I blew smoke.

"You know I don't believe you. You know it doesn't work, plus I figured out how to break the code."

"Why do you insist on sticking around when I'm like this?"

"Because I'm falling for you. Isn't that clear?"

I flicked my cigarette into the ashtray and lit a second one.

 _I'm falling for you too._ "It is."

"I'm hopeless for you, Hamilton. I tried not to be, but dammit you undo me. I think about you all the time, your presence infects me. I want you. I like you."

His use of my last name surprised me, took a deep pull from my cigarette and weighed my options, fuck it, reckless.

"I think about you, too. Laurens, I like you a lot." I met his formality with my own and set my jaw.

"I know I ask a lot of you. Pull you out of your comfort zone, but can you try leaning into it? Trust me just a little?"

"I do."

"I mean really trust me. Breathe. Relax."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and puffed my cigarette.

"Alex, I'm not going to hurt you. I couldn't. It would break me to cause you any pain."

I shook my head, _it doesn't work like that._

"I'm not. I really like you. I like waking up next to you. I like you meeting my friends. I like watching you work. I like sneaking off to lunch with you. I like our dates. I like worrying about you. I like taking care of you."

I looked out at the river over the buildings.

My voice was small, "I like those things too."

"Just have a little faith."

I didn't take my eyes off the river, he was encircling me. I rested my chin on his shoulder, his hair tickling my stubbly face. I felt the silent tears before I realized I was crying, and I wrapped my arms around him, returning the hug. Mostly because I didn't want him to see my face.

He turned his head to whisper in my ear, "this is good."

I tossed my cigarette off the fire escape and held him tighter, squeezing my eyes shut, the after image of the bridge and the river burning behind my eyelids.


	11. Chapter 11

**Come on, Alex, we're rooting for you! Let that boy in! Reviews are love, please please let me know if you're feeling this. Thanks for reading.**

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I'd tried to ignore him for the next week, feeling too embarrassed after last weekend to face him, but he inserted himself. There would be inconspicuous post it notes stuck to my monitor at work when I returned from the break room filling up my coffee. Sweet text messages I'd wake up to. He was all around me and even though I was afraid, I loved it. Felt a tingling rush seeing his delicate cursive notes waiting for me. A thrill when he'd tap on my cubicle in passing to the bathroom and then wink at me on the way back. I was falling for him. Feelings were caught. My desire made me lonely. I wanted to be with him, but I knew that my desire was dangerous, that was what made people reckless, made them make stupid decisions, got them hurt. I wanted so badly to be held by him, to wake up smelling him, to listen to him talk, but I was so scared of him.

 **Coming over tonight.**

I growled low under my breath at the text, and responded, **no, bad night.**

 **I know. ;)**

 _Fuck, for real?_ I shoved my phone in my bag and concentrated on work, Adams had complained about my last draft and I was making revisions, he claimed that I used too technical of language - sorry, big words - that wouldn't appeal to the masses (ie. mouth breathers who can't sound out words with more than three syllables) the grey sky led me to type even more quickly so I could go home. I hurried out of the office and made my way home, the air felt so thick, I had to get home. It wasn't raining yet, but I could tell it was coming as I put on a pair of joggers and a hoodie wanting to be comfortable. The sweatshirt felt weird and I looked down at it, it was his NASA hoodie, of course it was. I wondered if he'd left it on purpose and stopped caring when I realized how cozy it made me feel and how good it smelled.

A knock at the door.

I looked through the peephole. He was grinding the toe of his chucks into the carpet in the hallway, a pizza box in hand, backpack slung on his shoulders, hair in a low ponytail. I sighed and opened the door.

"Hi." he grinned, noticing the hoodie.

"Hey, I just put this on and well… you can have it back… I just… Sorry…" I struggled to get the words out.

"Nah, you look cute in it. Brought you dinner," he set the pizza box down and opened his backpack, withdrew a bottle of whiskey, "and whiskey, cause I know you don't like rum when it's storming… or when you're sad, but you do like it when you're celebrating or you're happy. You drank rum on our first date." He was still grinning, cheeks flashing red.

"What's the occasion?" I asked pensively, wanting to get back to my plans of getting shitfaced alone.

"Gonna storm pretty bad tonight. I didn't want you to be all by yourself."

"I can take it."

"But you don't have to anymore, that's why people get boyfriends, goober." He kicked his shoes off and flopped onto the couch, grabbing a piece of pizza.

 _Boyfriend, ugh, that word, a title, label, definition. It made it seem so concrete, but what other word was there for it?_ I sat beside him and took a piece of the pizza, holding the bottle between my thighs, I opened it, took a swig and passed it to him. He moved on to his second piece and I tried to calm my anxiety enough to keep the first piece down. Took another drink. The first crack of thunder in the distance. I jumped.

John was talking, I hadn't been paying attention, and tried to tune in, make sense of what he was saying, but I couldn't grasp it.

"Huh?"

"Never mind," he rubbed my thigh.

I took another drink. Rain started to beat down, I got up and packed my cigarettes against my hand a few times, opening the little door to the fire escape just enough to stick my arm and face out and lit a cigarette, raindrops hit my face, the wind blowing hard.

"You're sweet, but I don't mind, come back inside." He was behind me, calm, hands heavily on my hips, secure.

"You sure?" I blew smoke outside and turned my head to look at him.

"I dunno, I find the smell kind of comforting, cigarettes and coffee smell like you, I like it."

I rolled my eyes and shut the door.

"Come here." He took my free hand, I didn't realize that his backpack was slung across his shoulder. I followed him into my bedroom and he opened his backpack, changed into stretch pants and sat on the edge of my bed. I sat with him and he handed me the whiskey, I took a drink.

The rain was louder out, thunder overhead, I tucked my shoulders around my ears.

"Hey hey, none of that. Shh." He got up on his knees and crawled toward me, rubbing my shoulders. I relaxed little by little. Another crash of thunder made me bite my lip.

"I want to try something, lie down." I looked at him skeptically, he cocked his head to the side, eyes pleading.

I complied with his request and curled into the my bed, he shut the lights off, leaving us with the little light that the gray storm provided, he sat back on the bed.

"Hey, look, you got a sheet!" He cheered.

I'd put it on after the last time he'd come over, knew it was important to him, but said nothing. He was rooting through his bag and produced his giant headphones.

"We're gonna try something okay?" He asked, unlocking his phone.

I nodded in agreement.

"What's your favourite kind of music?"

I shrugged, biting the inside of my cheek, the rain was so loud, _everything was so so wet, city on fire, no one there. No friends, mama, wet, rained so hard, so much water. Winds howling._

"Hey, hey, focus, what do you like?"

I opened my eyes, "I dunno, like Tupac, I guess."

"Me too." He smiled and searched youtube for Tupac, he plugged his headphones into the audio jack, and put them over my ears, the world fell silent, the video loaded and I listened to the music. John tucked himself in next to me, and picked my head up, sliding his arm under my neck, he draped his other arm across my stomach, the weight felt soothing, he handed me the whiskey and I took a drink. I looked out window at the rain, it was raining so hard. He tapped my shoulder and I looked at him, I could make out his features in the dark, he was smiling at me, his long fingers outlining my nose, tracing my goatee, smoothing the frown in my forehead. I took a deep breath. His smile told me everything was okay, I scooted closer to him and breathed into his chest deeply. I didn't realize I was falling asleep.

When I woke up the world was still silent, John was holding me, his face lit by his phone as he read something on the screen, I was still tucked under his arm, I shifted and he looked at me. I pulled the headphones off.

"Hi."

"How ya doing?" he set his phone down, thrusting us into darkness, only light from the streetlamps.

"I'm okay."

"Storm's over. You made it."

"I didn't think that would work."

"I knew it would."

"How?"

"What I used to do to tune out my dad yelling at my siblings, figured people getting hit sounds kind of like thunder, so maybe it would work for you." He smiled weakly, his voice almost catching.

"It did. Thank you."

"No problem. I just wanted you to feel safe, it was a pretty bad one, I think it's still misting, but the storm's over."

I stretched and sat up, "what time is it?"

"About eleven."

"Damn, sorry. You staying over?" I asked him, standing up.

"Up to you." He sounded like any answer would be fine.

"Would you?" I paused, "please?"

"I'd love to."

"We can watch the Office."

"Sounds perfect."

We got up and went to the living room, I got my laptop and set it up, John got the show started and I ate a piece of now cold pizza.


	12. Chapter 12

**Shadow and Mimi, y'all the bomb dot com. Keep them reviews coming and enjoy something a little fluffy, calm before the storm, if you will. Side note anyone think of Empty Chairs at Empty Tables with regards to Story of Tonight or am I just a weirdo? Just that camaraderie and then the same theme for the Laurens Interlude gut punch. I digress, enjoy!**

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It had been two weeks since the night of the storm, John was over more than he wasn't. I was getting used to having him around. We fell into comfortability quickly, a domestic routine of me working late into the evening, him sketching or editing on his laptop, sometimes reading, then we'd go to bed together. I was loosening up to him, feeling like I was free falling, no parachute, but the ground was far enough away still that I could just enjoy the wind and the view. It was domestic. It was blissful. It was fucking terrifying.

The movie we were watching finished, I turned the television off and stood up.

"Alright, I gotta get shit done, either stay or don't or whatever, but I have work to do."

He yawned, "I'm just gonna head home, it's bedtime," pulling on his shoes.

He stood and pecked a kiss on my lips, I licked them after he pulled away, wanting more of the taste. I went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee, drinking it tepid while he gathered the rest of his things.

"Alright, I'm outie." He reached for the door.

"John," my breath caught and I cleared my throat.

He turned around to look at me, "sup? You okay? Look like you've seen a ghost."

I chewed my lip and cleared my throat again, it felt dry and thick, I was hot, knees buckling, "I love you." I said it so quickly I wasn't sure he'd understood me.

"Really?" He sounded inquisitive and suspicious.

I nodded, and looked away, "either say it back or go, whatever, just don't leave me standing here like an idiot."

"No. No! Alexander, I'm just surprised. I love you, love you so much. I can't believe you really said it… Said it first."

I blew out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. He closed the distance between us and held me tight, "good job," he whispered, "you let me in. You did it."

I felt my breathing quicken, panic hitting me, I pulled away and swallowed hard, "I did it."

"Wish you didn't have work to do."

"Yup."

"Goodnight, love." he kissed me again.

I locked the door behind him and fumbled for my smokes, either this would be excellent or my greatest mistake. The word love sounded so unfamiliar in my mouth, tasted like cinnamon and amber and strawberries, and rum, like his kisses, like him. I smoked my cigarette and got to work writing. I looked at my phone when it buzzed.

 **You're probably weird right now, because you're you, but I love you. Goodnight.**

I didn't reply, knew he'd get it.

We became even more domestic in the days that followed. Trading off nights that we slept over, ignoring housework until the weekend. On Saturday we found ourselves at the coin operated laundromat together, each with a full washer, and a shared dryer for what wouldn't fit in our respective machines. I was bent over a notebook, listening to the sounds of the washers churning, it was relatively empty in the laundromat, the nice day enticing people to shirk responsibilities like John and I had for the past week. He dropped into the chair across from me, I glanced up to see his opening a bag of cheetos from the vending machine and held out my hand, he dropped a few of the cancer-orange chips in my palm. I kept working. He tapped his foot, Chucks squeaking on the scuffed parquet flooring. I noticed his head swaying to the rhythm of the spin cycle, and he let out a breath… not a breath, a sound, in time with the washers. I snapped my head up and looked at him.

"Are you… fucking beatboxing? You can do just do that?" My mouth hung open, jaw a broken hinge.

He shrugged and continued making music with the washers, I leaned on my hand and watched him. He stopped to eat a cheeto and then resumed, picking at his nails.

"You have any other random talents I should know about? You some underground rapper and I don't even know it?"

He struggled to keep the percussion going as his lips tightened in a smile, "no, that's Laf. You should hear him sometime, no clue what he's saying, but I can tell you he flows fast as fuck, most of it's in French, though. Hercules can beatbox, too. Try it!"

"No." I crossed my arms, unwilling to make a fool of myself.

"Come on!"

"Nope." I ate another cheeto and kept working. John switched the laundry when it was ready. Pulled our shared load into a basket and dropped it on the table beside me. He sat on the table and got started sorting, I sat on the table as well facing opposite him, leaned in so we were diagonal to one another. We worked to decouple our laundry from each other. I held up a black sock and bit my lip trying to figure out who its owner was.

"Red stripe?" John asked.

"Nope." I inspected it more closely.

"Then it's yours, all mine have red stripes."

I put the sock in my pile.

He pulled out a pair of boxers and folded them, "those are mine." I reached for them, he finished folding them.

"I know, I don't mind folding your laundry, Alex."

I blushed and looked away, finding two black socks with red stripes and folded them together, handing them to John. _Petty._

He made direct eye contact with me and folded my 'si hoc legere scis, nimis eruditionis habes' shirt.

"What the hell does this even mean?" He studied the shirt.

"If you can read this, you have too much education."

His ears went red and I chuckled, pointedly grabbing his Beatles t-shirt and folding it.

He folded a pair of my socks together. I folded a pair of his boxer briefs, he folded my tank top, I folded his favourite sweatpants. We made our way through the basket that way, we each had a stray sock, but I managed to win the war, folding his Selena t shirt, the last item in the basket.

"This is the weirdest courting ritual I've ever followed. I've never passive aggressively folded laundry with someone." He was giggling.

"Lot of firsts for both of us."

He leaned across the table and kissed me. I wanted to take him on the folding table but stood up, stepping out for a cigarette to control myself. When I got back inside he was switching my laundry into a dryer.

"What setting?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Don't ever let Hercules hear you say that." Mock horror on his face.

I rolled my eyes and nudged him aside and stuck a quarter in the machine, it fell through the coin return.

"Already took care of it."

I looked at his washer, it was empty, dryer next to mine running, I saw his NASA hoodie swirling inside it.

"Damn you, Laurens."

"Whatcha gonna do about it?"

I backed him again the machine and pinned his arms by his sides, knowing that with our height difference I'd make a fool of myself if I tried to go for the super sexy, arms over his head thing, and kissed him hard. He fumbled to start my dryer and kept kissing me. Finally, I released him, not wanting to make too big of a scene.

"Are you coming home with me?" He asked, tightening his ponytail.

"Well, damn, I'm gonna have to now." I tried to inconspicuously adjust my jeans.

He cackled in delight, "good."

We folded the rest of our laundry once it was done, I struggled to get any more work done, John pestering me the whole time.

"You're the loudest person I think I've ever met." I shook my head, holding the door for him.

He grinned, freckles creasing around his dimples.

"Don't look so proud, it isn't a compliment."

"Hey, just because not everyone is a human cat like you, doesn't make me the loudest human ever." We walked down the block to his apartment.

"'Human cat?' Jack, that doesn't even make sense."

"You're the quietest person in the world."

"I guess we were made to balance each other out." I mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

I shifted my laundry bag and we went up to his apartment.

"Why don't you just do laundry downstairs?" I asked on the elevator ride.

"Too damned expensive, can't get dry jeans for less than ten bucks."

He unlocked the door and I tossed my laundry down, he picked up a post it note from by the key bowl.

"We've got the place to ourselves tonight." His eyes flashed darkly.

"Good." I grabbed him by the hips, he ground against me and moaned my name.


	13. Chapter 13

**We're at the top of the roller coaster, my friends, enjoy some John angst. Mimi, I am so excited to see your drawing, that's the biggest compliment I could get! Thank you (and Shadow) for your continued support. I'm out of town this weekend, which will either delay or expedite my updating, hopefully the latter! Thank you for reading!**

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I looked up from my book as John's voice took a hard edge, I tried to give him privacy while he was on the phone, but couldn't help but listen and wonder what had him in such a mood.

"Okay, Patsy, okay. I love you too, call me, yeah, tomorrow. Yup. Tell the boys and Poll' I love 'em. Okay. I will. Yup. Te amo. 'Kay, Bye." John hung up his phone and flopped on the couch next to me.

"Everything okay?" I asked, noting how his brows were strung together, his eyes squeezed shut.

He knotted his fingers together, hands meant to create beautiful art wringing themselves into oblivion, "my dad's sick. This might be it."

"Oh, I'm sorry, John." I chewed on my lip, unsure of what to do, whether or not to touch him.

"It's okay, not like we haven't seen it coming forever. Just, I didn't think I'd feel this weird about it. I have to go home."

I was surprised, he'd spent the last three nights at my place and didn't seem in a hurry to leave until he'd gotten bad news. I wasn't going to stop him, though. I knew all about needing space. He didn't make any move to get up though, just pulled his phone out and stared at the screen, typing.

"Oh... okay, do you want me to get your stuff?"

"No, Alex, I mean home-home. I gotta go to Charleston."

I felt my mouth make a perfect circle, the wind knocked out of me, "oh."

"Yeah, Patsy says I need to be there tomorrow, in case..."

"Patsy is...?"

"My sister."

"Gotcha. I'm coming with you." I decided, not sure why, seemed like a way I could repay him for his endless kindness and the love he'd shown me, like maybe being with him while he was hurting would make up some of the karmic debt for not being able to be there for Eliza when she was hurting.

"Alex, you're sweet, but you don't want to do that, trust me. I don't even want to be there, South Carolina is terrible, and it's filled with people who don't know who I am anymore."

"Fuck 'em, you're scared and you're sad, it's my job to be there, right? That's what boyfriends do?" I asked almost for clarification.

He softened at me using the title, screwed his lips into a half smile, "I guess so, but really you don't have to."

"I want to, John. I want to not be a piece of shit who just takes all your love."

"You're far from that, sweetheart. There's a flight at five am out of LaGuardia tomorrow. That work?" He glanced up from his phone.

"Yeah, I'll tell Adams I need time off. I guess you will, too. Think the dipshit's smart enough to put two and two together?"

"I dunno, okay... I got us tickets. Um… do you wanna get your stuff together and then we can just go back to my place or… I guess we can meet at the airport in the morning, I gotta pack and take a shower."

"No, I'll come with you, give me a minute to throw some shit together."

I made my way toward my bedroom, "Alex-" his breath caught, and he took a deep breath to steady himself, "...do you have a suit?"

I understood the grave context, "yeah,"

John let out a deep sigh and looked at the ground, "bring it."

I nodded and packed my things, not sure how long we'd be gone I over packed, went in the bathroom and grabbed my toiletries. I retrieved the bag of trash from the kitchen and locked the door behind us.

"You're sure you don't mind coming?" John chewed his cheek, "because Laf will probably come if I ask him to."

"No, I want to be there for you." I dropped the bag of trash down the chute, wiped my hands on my jeans and took his hand. He smiled at my initiation of contact.

We rode the subway to John's apartment. He stared out the window, working a hole into his cheek. I offered a hand to him, not wanting to force comfort on him. He took it and I saw a tear fall.

"You're gonna be okay," I leaned close and whispered, despite the empty car, this was intimate, sound just for us two, kissed his head.

John nodded, another tear fell. He squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. We spent the rest of the ride in silence. In the darkness I could see his reflection staring out the window, jaw set, wet eyes narrowed. I picked up his backpack when we got to our stop, taking my suitcase in the other hand. He took his backpack before we ascended the stairs and reached for my hand again. I yanked my suitcase up the stairs and we made it to his building, waved our hellos to the doorman on duty and rode the elevator up. Lafayette and Hercules were on the couch watching a movie, Laf's legs in Herc's lap face in his phone.

"Hey, guys." Hercules waved.

"Alexander, bonsoir!" Lafayette greeted me, he suspiciously eyed my luggage, "are you moving in?"

"No." I said flatly, not wanting to tell John's news. They looked at John, eyes red rimmed, Hercules paused the movie.

John sat on the coffee table and steeled himself with a gulp of air, "it's my dad."

Lafayette tipped his head to the side.

"He's… Well, they're pretty sure he's... dying… Like for real this time."

"John." Lafayette bent forward and hugged him, John dissolved in his arms and sobbed into his friend. I chewed a hangnail and stared at the ground, embarrassed that I couldn't comfort him better.

Hercules noticed my discomfort and smiled knowingly at me. I returned the smile from my lips only. Lafayette was cooing at John, smoothing his hair back.

John composed himself and stood, wiping his eyes roughly, "I need to pack."

I followed him into his room and helped him tuck clothes into the suitcase.

"You get to meet my family." John tried a smile.

"Yeah. Will they… Do they know?"

John smiled more authentically, "yeah, I'm out. Patsy will love you. The boys don't love anything that isn't videogames or porn. Polly's a good kid."

I stared at the ground, envious of the family that John had.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, just worried about you." It wasn't totally untrue.

"Don't be. Love you." He kissed my forehead and went to the bathroom to collect his toiletries and take a shower.

I started drafting my email requesting time off to Adams of my phone, _and I swear to god, if that fat, lazy, arrogant motherfucker says anything to me about it, I'll personally find out how many hours he's clocked golfing this year._

John returned, hair damp and pulled straight, he was wrapped in a towel, threw his toiletries in his bag and zipped it, pulled on his boxer briefs and sweatpants, hung the towel on the door knob before flopping beside me.

"You're sure about coming with me?"

"Yes, for chrissakes, I want to support you. I know it's foreign for me, goddamn do I, but this is right."

He smiled a little and rest his head on my thigh, I scooted back against the headboard, stroked his wet hair and caressed his cheek. He sighed heavily.

"It's so weird." He mused, his voice muffled from his cheek being squished against my leg.

"What is?"

"That I'm feeling this way. Guy's a complete asshole to me for more than twenty years and then now that he's about to die, I'm a fucking mess over it. And, like what happens to my siblings? Do I have to raise Polly and the boys? Does Martha?"

"I don't know, babe." He got up and folded himself into my arms, it eased the guilt at watching him go to Lafayette for comfort. I could do this. I could be good.

There was a small knock on the door, "come in." John sniffed.

Lafayette entered with a tray, two steaming mugs and some cookies.

"Do you need anything else, friend?" Lafayette set the tray on the bed and pursed his lips at John's sad countenance.

"No, thanks, Laf, this is great."

"Alexander, I take you for the type to drink coffee regardless of the hour and you seem not like the type to like other hot drinks. Yes?"

"Correct." I picked up the darker mug, "thank you."

"And mon ami, for you my chocolat chaud,"

"Thanks." John picked up the mug of hot chocolate, Lafayette slipped silently out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"You really should try this, though." John held out his mug and I took a sip.

"Holy fuck, that shit is good." I licked my lips and took another sip.

"Perks of life with a French guy. He made the macarons, too,"

I picked one up, "of course he did. How do you live like this and look like that?"

"Some people go to the gym, Alexander."

I surveyed my own body, "I'm too busy for that bullshit."

The cookies were pretty damned tasty. John sipped at his hot chocolate, looking in the mug like he was searching for the answers of the world.

"Three's gonna come awful early." I told him.

"I know. Not tired."

"Welcome to my life, see how we do things in the underworld." I put on a vampire accent, not quite Transylvanian, but campy.

"How do you do it?"

I pointedly gulped my coffee.

"What happens if you don't have coffee, do you sleep?"

I shook my head, "I die. Can't function, headache, can't focus, don't sleep though, but, you should try and sleep. Come on, Jack." I pulled the covers back, moving the breakfast tray to the floor, finished my coffee. John sat his mug on the side table with his precarious stash of dishes and slid between the covers. I got up and turned the lights off. Held him against me, trying to mirror what he had done for me each time I was upset and I'd actually allowed him to console me. He tucked his head under my chin and I heard his breath catch.

"Shh!" It sounded too much like an order from me, not comforting and delicate like when he hushed my tears. He knotted my t-shirt in his hand and I felt his shoulders shake, rocking the bed, he made no sound.

"I'm… I'm sorry you're sad?" I couldn't think of what to say, I ran my fingers through his hair.

"I'm angry." He was so quiet, sounded so little. I squeezed him.

"Why?"

"Cause my dad's a piece of shit! All my life he treats me like crap. Beats us, screams at us, but when he needs me I'm there. I… I-I have to fix things, I al-always have to fix things. I'm the Laurens family fixer. And he'll die and get freed from all his g-guilt, all his wr-wrong doings, he'll be painted a saint." He sniffled into the hollow of my chest

I reminded myself that he was talking about fixing his own family, not me, his words weren't meant for me, I couldn't help it that they still stung, but ignored it, "so don't go."

"I'm not going for him, and, ugh, everyone will think I am, I'm going for my siblings. I kind of do want closure, but gah, fuck him."

"Agreed." I kissed his hair, thinking about all the things he tried to do to comfort me... to fix me. The actions of giving comfort felt so alien to me, but I wanted to fix him, so I tried.

I felt how wet my shirt got, but couldn't find it in me to care, just grateful that he was letting me comfort him, chip away toward leveling the 'fixing' playing field, even if I was bad at it. He cried himself out and fell asleep, I wondered if it was better to stay up or try and sleep for two hours. He slept fitfully beside me and I stayed up to watch over him, not sure what I could do to relieve him, but I would try, I would at least be awake if he woke up. He didn't, but his sleep wasn't restful either. At one point he gripped a thatch of my hair and pulled, a loud whimper accompanying it, I worked his fingers free and rubbed his back, it hurt, but I knew he didn't mean it. His breathing became rapid, I ran a hand up and down his arm a little too fast with a little too much friction, it seemed to work, though. I was doing my best. Trying to be good. Prove that I could be a decent human being. I was dozing when his alarm sounded, and it immediately roused me from the trance I was in. I reached over him to turn off the offensive blaring. He nuzzled closer to me.

"John, wake up, we need to get going, come on."

He sighed and stretched, tipped his head to kiss at my jaw, nibbling just past my goatee.

"None of that." I snapped, not wanting to indulge him and end up with us missing our flight.

He opened his eyes and sat up, hair a mess from air drying, I smirked at him. _He was so cute in the mornings._

"Did you get any sleep?" He asked me through a yawn.

A gave a noncommittal noise as a reply, he shook his head.

"Alright, let's get going, come on." I got out of bed and changed into the clothes I'd left out of my bag the night before. Relaxed jeans and a hoodie, he donned his usual sports coat, Selena t-shirt underneath and dragged his feet as we left the room, trying to be quiet. To my shock Lafayette was up, in matching silk pajamas, hair tied back, large delicate gold framed glasses on, he handed us both paper cups with lids.

"I wanted to see you off." He hugged John and kissed his cheek.

"You're the greatest, I'll call you."

"Okay." He hugged him again.

Lafayette offered a hand to me and I shook it, "bon voyage, thank you for going."

"There's nowhere else I'd be."

Laf smiled warmly at me, dark eyes eyes twinkling behind their lenses.

"Alright, let's do this." John swung his backpack on and pulled the telescoping handle out on his suitcase, Lafayette shut the door behind us.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sup, guys, I'm in the heart of the bible belt for a family wedding, which makes this content perfect timing. Family dysfunction and fights, high stress levels, extremely conservative ideology, I feel you, Laurens, poor John. I've started the next chapter, but have not great internet connection, and round two of family stress is coming, then all day in the car tomorrow, but I do have more cooking for ya! Please review and let me know what you think. So much love to you for reading.**

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The airport hustled with travelers wearing masks of all levels of road-weary exhaustion. John pulled our boarding passes up on our phones and we found our gate. There were people dozing in the chairs and we took two open seats. I kicked my feet up on my suitcase. John bounced his knees and watched planes taxi out the windows. His eyes betrayed his exhaustion.

"You need anything?"

He shook his head.

"Sure?"

He nodded, pulled down his ponytail, smoothed his hair back and re-tied it. Exhaustion commingling with anxiety would have made him look like any of the other travelers, but I sensed his unique discomfort and my concern for him distracted me from my own anxiety.

They called first class boarding and John gathered his bags.

"We're first class?" I couldn't pull the surprise out of my voice.

"Yeah, 'course." He said it so casually it took me a minute to register.

I raised my eyebrows and stood, remembering that we come from different worlds. We got in line and were quickly through the boarding process. We got settled in the large seats, it was luxurious, especially considering the short two hour flight time. John sat next to the window, I was happy to take the aisle seat.

A pretty flight attendant walked by and stooped to talk to us, "good morning, gentleman, can I get you something to drink?"

"Mimosa, please." John smiled at the woman.

 _Oh, shit, we can drink?_

"For you, sir?" she turned her attention to me.

"Whiskey and coke, please?"

She smiled and walked away.

"You okay?" John rubbed my knee.

I covered his hand with my own, circling the back of his hand with my thumb, "fine, don't worry about me. I'm worried about you."

The rest of the passengers were boarding and the flight attendant returned with our drinks. John sipped his mimosa and leaned his head against my shoulder, I took a deep pull from my drink and felt the urge for a cigarette, tamping it down, I bent my neck down to bury my nose in John's hair, smelling the strawberries of his shampoo.

We sat through the emergency announcements and safety presentation. I took deep breaths and another drink, he squeezed my knee.

"Nervous flyer?"

"Kind of. I've only done it a handful of times."

"'Be okay, babe." he whispered.

"I know."

I tuned out the safety procedures and emptied my drink. We started moving and I took a deep breath, clamping my eyes shut as we ascended and left the ground.

"Breathe, sugar."

 _Great, he's comforting_ _ **me**_ _again. That's supposed to be my job this time. Get your shit together, Hamilton._

The angle of the plane leveled out and I relaxed, ordering another whiskey and coke when the flight attendant returned. John was looking out the window, had pulled his sketchbook out, people forms developing in rough pencil strokes on the page. I relished the opportunity to watch over his shoulder as he worked, usually giving him privacy to work and show me only if he wanted to. I sipped my newly delivered whiskey and coke. After a little while he made a frustrated noise and turned the page to an older sketch he was working on, a more fleshed out person form, bust sketch from the chest up, hair long and dark, eyes slanted with exhaustion, lips quirked to the side in a smirk. I gasped and he flicked his eyes at me, cheeks red.

"It's me." I whispered, he'd only shown me his landscapes in the past.

"Yeah, I draw you a lot, Alex." he flipped through the sketchbook and found various sketches of me. He stopped on one of me stopped over my desk, hair caught by a hand, lit cigarette billowing smoke from between my fingers, staring at my work.

He flipped to another page. Me in ecclesiastical repose, his crisp white sheets draped around me. I looked _elegant_ , skin smooth and blemish free, hair spilled across his pillows, light smatter of hair on my chest arms over my head, face slacken and peaceful with sleep.

"Oh, my god, John. This is amazing."

I fingered the drawing and sighed.

"It's how I see you. Beautiful." he chewed his cheek.

He worked on the bust drawing of me, shading the hollow creases under my eyes. I sipped my drink and leaned against him while he worked, pulled my phone out, taking advantage of the free WiFi I lurked Twitter, eye rolling at the stupidity of the political happenings.

Before I realized the time, there was an announcement that we would be making our descent. I finished my drink in one gulp and John put his sketchbook away, had finished shading my eyes, bringing them to life. I gripped the creases of my jeans, taking steadying breaths, eyes shut.

"You're good, baby. We'll be there soon. Safe and sound." He kissed my neck.

 _Can't even comfort him, right. Jesus, Alexander, you are such a fuck up._

We were lucky enough to have a gentle landing, I opened my eyes again and surveyed the world around us through the window as we taxied to the gate. The captain told us it was 7:43, 62°, partly overcast. John was texting, coordinating our pick up. We stood and gathered our bags, disembarking with the rest of first class. We waited at the baggage carousel for our luggage and I heard John exclaim and he left my side.

"John, oh, it's good to see you, brother, where is he? Is this Alexander?"

I turned to see who the saccharine southern voice belonged to, John was clutching a shorter, dark haired woman. John let her go and introduced us.

"Babe, this is my sister, Martha, Patsy, this is Alexander."

She grabbed me in a hug. I stiffened in surprise and patted a flat hand on her back.

"He's not really a hugger, Pats."

"Oh, sorry, hi," she held my forearms at arms length and inspected me, "he is cute, Jackie!"

"I know. Leave him be." John pulled his sister off me and collected my suitcase off the carousel. His a few behind it.

He took my hand as we walked to Martha's car, and he put our bags in the hatchback of her Range Rover. I balked at the car and sat in the back seat, letting John have the passenger seat to catch up with his sister, he turned the seatbelt over his head so it caught only his waist and turned to be able to see me as well.

"So how is he?" John asked, eyes narrowing.

"Not great, sat levels weren't good last night, haven't been up there this morning."

"Kids are still out of school?" John grilled.

"Yeah, they're all at the house," she turned her attention to me, "Alexander, tell me about yourself, John has been so vague, I thought you weren't real at first but, John's so different when he talks now."

"I, uh, well, I live in New York, I'm a writer, work with John." I trailed off.

"Well, I know that much. But, what else?"

I bit my lip, "uh, I'm Puerto Rican, and a… Capricorn?"

"That's something!" She laughed.

I looked around downtown as she worked to navigate to the highway, it was a completely different world from New York. We spent the better part of half an hour on the highway before she took the exit, the sun coming up over the trees. She took a winding road, nothing but farms and trees outside, the houses got bigger. Martha turned again, driving past open wrought iron gates embellished with a large flourishing 'L'. My stomach dropped and I saw the house. Grand, two stories, windows lining the front of the house, a wrap around porch, two swings suspended from the porch ceiling, ferns hung, dancing in the wind.

Martha parked in the circle drive and an adolescent girl burst through the door and ran to the car. John rushed out of the vehicle and stooped to catch her as she jumped into his arms. He spun in a circle.

"Polly, girl!"

"Jackie!" She kissed his cheek and set her down.

"Alex, babe, this is my sister Polly, Poll' this is my boyfriend Alexander."

"Hi," I waved.

"Hey," she waved back, grinning, she looked just like John, her long hair plaited into two French braids down her back, I could tell from the unruly ends she had the same curls John did.

"Here, Poll', take this." he passed her his backpack and got our suitcases out.

We entered the grand home, I took off my shoes at the door, John noticed but let it slide, noticing my apprehension. He squeezed my hand. Two teen boys, lanky like John, one dark haired like Martha, the other speckled and tawny haired like John and Polly."

"Hey, boys," they took turns hugging their brother.

"This is Alexander, babe, Harry and Jem."

I waved at the boys.

"Guys, can you take these up?" he pointed at our bags.

An eye roll from the freckled boy, but they complied with his request.

"Well, come on." Martha led us through to the kitchen.

John opened the fridge and found some berries, munched on them, handed the bowl to me, I declined, too tired, and a little tipsy for food to hold appeal.

"Put the kettle on for you, Jack? Alexander?"

"I'm good." John dropped into a chair at the breakfast bar.

"Coffee?" I pleaded.

"'Course, how ya take it?"

"Black, please,"

"Black? Whew, they make you Yankees different up there."

I smiled and she handed me a steaming mug, pouring and doctoring her own mug light and sweet.

She sat down next to John.

"Where's my baby?" John asked her, tired eyes lighting up.

"Ellie's with David. He was able to bring her to the office today. You'll see her tonight."

I shrugged, trying to figure out who was being discussed.

"Ellie's my baby niece." he clarified.

I nodded and Martha produced her phone, sliding it to John, who swiped through, showing me pictures of the curly, brunette baby with bright blue eyes. She was pretty cute. He cooed over her pictures, pointing and looking at me, lip stuck out.

"She's gonna be two in four months." Martha reminded him.

"Goddamn, that's right." John was shaking his head.

"You guys need to freshen up or change? I'm gonna head up to the hospital, want to come?"

"Yeah, I'm ready, just want to get there. Alexander, you coming?"

"Always," I stood up and took his hand, rubbing his knuckles with my thumb, "uh, quick cigarette first?"

John led me out the back door, the deck overlooking the acreage of the estate, a giant pool, garden left untended, grass until the treeline. I lit a cigarette, grateful for the rush of nicotine. Today was only going to get harder.

We were back in the car, the drive another half hour to the hospital.

"He doesn't look right. You need to know that. His color is off, they have him intubated. It's bad, Jackie. Real bad." Martha sounded like a mother as she talked to him. I was glad to be in the back seat. Not sure how I'd comfort him if I even could reach him.

Martha pulled the Rover into a spot in the parking garage and led us confidently through the hospital, John's fists were balled and I saw his jaw working. I snaked a hand around his waist.

"Alright, through these doors."

"I'll stay out here." I offered, not wanting to insert myself into their intimate family environment.

"Will… will you come?" his voice shook and I noted a wobble in his knees.

"You got it, querido." I nodded.

Martha smiled over her shoulder at us, punched a code and we went back through the automatic doors of the ICU.

I followed, feeling out of place, feeling so wrong, knowing I shouldn't be here, but he smiled small at me, his eyes dark and sad through his thick lashes and I wanted to be nowhere else, even with the beeping machines, the clean smell of hospital. Martha guided us into a room.

John gasped, the man in the bed, clearly broad and tall, taking up the whole bed, big hands, veiny and withered on the blankets, stuck with IVs. John sat in the chair beside the bed knit his brows together.

"Hi, sir, it's uh, John, uh, well, I, you're not awake, but I'm here, sir, uh, dad."

His father lie unresponsive in the bed, tube down his throat. Machines chimed.

I stood against the wall. Martha smiled at me, the same smile from Hercules last night. John's jaw was set, I could see him trying not to cry. He was losing the battle and looked pointedly away from his father. John pawed at his face, leaving angry, red marks in place of the tears.

"I'm ready to go, need real food." John got up and walked to the door of his father's hospital room.

I wrapped my arm around him as we walked back to the car.

"I guess he looks… better than I thought he would." John shrugged.

"Yeah. I need to go to work for a while after I drop you guys off, but I'll be back later."

"Sounds good."

I leaned back against the headrest and shut my eyes on the drive back to the Laurens Estate. Martha dropped us off and left. John led me up the stairs to a room filled with medals, and drawings, a desk in the corner had a mess of papers splayed on it and a framed picture of a freckled kid with a tangle of hair and a woman who looked like Martha. John and his mom. I looked at the drawings, recognizing John's style of art. The medals were for track, swimming, soccer, one for... fencing?

"This was your room." I smiled.

His ears went red, "yup." He flopped on the queen sized bed, dark blue duvet. I flopped with him.

John wrapped us up in the blankets and tucked his head under my chin.

"I love you." I told him and snuggled up tighter.

"I love you, too. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry 'cause tonight's gonna be worse, all of us, loud and strange and different, but it's okay, if you want to be upstairs for most of the night that's cool. I'm just sorry to drag you into the Laurens family crazy."

"Don't be." I whispered, settling in for our nap.


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm finally home, exhausted from being around my crazy family, sad to be away from some of them, happy to be back home. Shadow, you called it, where there's angst, there's drama. I've got the next chapter mostly done, wrote both this and the next as well as the last chapters on my phone and still need to edit that one. Hang on, tight, it's only gonna get harder on poor Laurens. Please, please review, and thank you** ** _SO_** **much for reading.**

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A soft tap on the door roused me, it opened a crack. It was dark in the room, curtains obscuring any light, and the light shooting in from the hall was sharp and painful.

"Um, hey. It's time for dinner." Polly whispered.

John woke up and thanked his sister. He turned and pecked a kiss to my lips once she left.

"Alright, babe, should just be the sibs, only people you haven't met are David and Ellie." he briefed me.

"I'm okay, really," _Lie. More people. More_ _ **rich**_ _people,_ "need a cigarette, though."

"Yup, there's a balcony just there down the hall, you can step out. Want me to come with?"

"Nah, I'm good." Quick kiss on his mouth. _Don't leave._

He steadied himself and went downstairs. I found the balcony door and slipped through it, smoking in the late afternoon glow. Wildlife hummed, no cabs, no honking, no shouting, no music. The cigarette renewed me and I steeled myself. _Don't want to go down there. They don't want you to go down there. You aren't wanted. Aren't needed._ No! I stilled my anxiety. _Have to. Have to for John. Needs you. Wants you. Loves you. Fuck everyone else. This is me and John._ I descended the staircase.

"Alexander!" Martha raised her arms, smiling wide.

"Hi, babe." John said from behind a screaming baby yanking his hair in his face.

"Alexander, this is my husband, David, and John's got our daughter, Eleanor. We're just about ready for dinner. Just sandwiches and fixin's. Too tired to make y'all somethin'."

"Thanks." I smiled and wiped my hands on my jeans, sitting next to John.

The little girl, Ellie, twisted in his arms, wrangled away from him and started screaming.

"No! Ellie! Don't scream, shh!" John called after the baby running away.

"It's just a phase, Jackie, she hates everyone who isn't me." Martha laughed sympathetically.

John pouted at me and watched her run away to her mom. We went into the kitchen, sat at the table in the eat-in and assembled our lunch meat sandwiches, John's just three types of cheese, potato salad, chips, and iced tea.

"It's so good to have you home." Polly said, dishing out her chips.

"Miss you, Poll'," John nudged her, serving himself potato salad.

"And to get to meet, Alexander. That's such a great name. Who are you named after?" Polly turned her attention to me.

I shrugged.

"Your dad?"

John kicked her under the table, "Mary!" he snarled.

She turned her attention to her food. I made myself a small plate of mostly chips and settled in the seat next to John. We ate in silence, everyone's attention turned to their food, except the baby who was going in intervals between delight and being pissed off at everything. _Me too, kid._

John's brother, with the dark hair. Was that one Harry or Jem? I guess it doesn't matter, perked up at John, "got a little daylight left, go for a run with me, old man?"

John laughed, "I don't know about that."

"Chicken? Afraid you can't keep up anymore?"

"No, I-"

"Go, John. You've got a legacy to defend, it sounds like." I patted his knee.

"Don't mind?" he looked deep in my eyes.

"No, go." I insisted.

"I'll be nice!" Martha called as he walked away to change after finishing his dinner.

I finished picking at my chips and we all relocated to the family room. John came back in his athletic shorts and a dry wicking t-shirt, Nike's on his feet.

"Bye, honey," he kissed my cheek, the tawny haired boy looked away, "and bye, tiny person." he kissed the top of the baby's head and she started crying. Martha consoled her as John and his brother, that one… dark haired one is... Harry, _got it_ , left for their run. Ellie waved and followed them to the door.

David turned on the tv and settled into the armchair, he made small talk, found out he was a doctor. _Of course, he is_. Ellie played with blocks on the floor, slobbering on them, babbling to herself. John's other brother rolled his eyes at me and went upstairs, huffing. _Fuck you, too, dude._ Ellie pulled herself up and toddled to me, shoved a block into my hands, it was sticky and damp. She grabbed my jeans and pulled herself up onto my lap. I tensed. _Babies are breakable, I break everything. Don't be a fuck up, Alex._ I held a hand in front of her protectively. She took her block back and held it up to me.

"That your block?" I asked her, _what are you supposed to say to a baby?_ _They're babies._

She gripped my hair with her sticky, damp hands and giggled. Martha came in from the kitchen.

"Oh, Alexander, I'm so sorry! David, really? You're just gonna let the baby climb all over guests?" Martha wiped her hands on a towel.

"She's fine." I waved Martha's concern away.

The baby rubbed her cheek against my mouth and giggled. Martha chuckled, "she likes your beard."

My face was covered in slobber, smelled like milk, and baby, and potato salad. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, _alright, kid. We got this. We cool._ I steadied her when she stood up to grab better at my hair. She suddenly got an idea to play on the floor and pushed out of the chair away from me, gripped my fingers with impressive strength and guided me out of the chair after her. I complied, of course. _Like I'm gonna deny a fucking baby? I'm a piece of shit, but I'm not a monster._

She handed me more blocks, I stacked three into a pyramid and she pushed them down. She stood up with a peal of laughter and climbed up my back, twisting sticky fingers in my hair. She hid behind the chair I'd been sitting in and I crawled on my knees to the other side, surprising her with an impromptu game of peek a boo. She squealed in delight. Martha and Polly joined us in the living room.

"Where's Jemmy?" she asked.

"Uh, I think he went upstairs." I shrugged.

Martha rolled her eyes, "daddy's boy, don't mind him. Sure you're okay with her?"

"I'm good."

Polly joined us on the floor, we rolled a ball back and forth with the baby. The young girl made pleasant conversation, asked a lot about what life is like in the city. I indulged her questions, yes, I went to the statue of liberty, no, I don't have roommates, no, I don't really like Broadway, no, I've never been hit by a car, yes, I really don't know how to drive. Martha got Polly to lay off.

"Alright, time to wind down, Ellie. Bedtime!" Martha called.

David kissed his wife and waved a goodbye to me and Polly. Martha dressed the baby for bed and changed her diaper. She turned the overhead lights off, switching on the softer table lamps.

"Should we watch some Moana?" Martha asked the baby who clapped with delight. She navigated the tv to Netflix and started the movie. I stepped out for a cigarette and took my place back in the arm chair. Ellie held a bottle of milk, standing in front of the tv, she panted seeing me settle in and bobbled to me, climbing into my lap. I held onto her and she pointed at the tv to make sure I was watching. One hand on her bottle, other hand reached up to grip at my beard. I watched the movie with her and she fell asleep curled up beside me. I kept watching, _whatever, the songs are fucking catchy, and they're all brown and it's feminist-y, I'm a loser for so many things already, fucking tack on liking Moana. What the fuck ever Tamatoa's a badass mother fucker._

The front door swung open and John and his brother tumbled through the entrance.

"Told you, I still got it!" John shoved his younger brother hard enough that the boy flung to the wall.

"Barely, almost lost you there for a second." he righted himself and shoved John back toward the grand staircase.

"Hey, that was the gravel. I'm out of practice on gravel."

"City boy!"

"Gentlemen!" Martha hissed, gesturing at the sleeping baby on my lap. John's mouth fell open.

"Sorry, Patsy." John whispered, stepping into the living room. He kissed my cheek and the baby's head.

He was red, sweat clinging to his freckled brow, his shirt darkened in a v from his neckline to his chest with sweat. The musky smell of his exertion made my mind darken with fantasies. _There's literally a baby asleep on you, cut the shit, settle down, Hamilton… b_ ut, fuck he's sexy.

"Alright, I gotta shower. David leave for the night?"

"Yeah, I'm staying with Ellie tonight, though. You got everything you guys need? I'm about to go to bed and put this one down."

"Nah, we're good, thanks."

"Fair warning, Jem's being himself…"

John sighed, "figures, Alex, he didn't say anything to you did he?"

I reached out and gripped his hand, "it's fine. Go shower."

John stalked upstairs, I was pretty sure I heard him mutter 'asshole.' Martha collected the baby from my lap and smiled at me.

"If you need anything at all, I'm down the hall." She patted my shoulder and shushed the stirring baby.

"'Night."

"Hey, thanks for being here. John really cares about you. You seem like you're a really good guy."

 _What the fuck? Good guy? Lady, you got no idea who you're talking to._

"I… love him." I shrugged.

"Night, Alexander."

I stepped out onto the porch and sat on the swing, lighting a smoke. The sounds of evening in the country overwhelming my senses. I thumbed through Twitter some more to occupy myself and then went back in, figuring he had finished his shower. I went back inside to find him. The bathroom empty and steamy, his hair products left on the counter. His bedroom was empty as well. I heard laughter through the upstairs balcony and followed the sound. John was sitting on the ground next to his brother, legs dangling through the spindles of the railing. A trail of smoke hung between them. I slid the door open and was hit with an earthy, sweet smell, John took the source of the smell back and I watched as his shoulders rose with a deep inhale. Harry laughed at a joke I hadn't heard.

I announced my presence, "hey,"

John turned to look at me, "hey, babe, join us!" he said with his breath held, he waved me over and passed the… yup, definitely a joint, back to his brother. I sat next to him and he coughed, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"You smoke pot?" I quirked an eyebrow.

"He does with me!" Harry laughed, leaning forward to look at me.

"You want some?" John asked, taking the joint back.

"Haven't since high school, but fuck it, when in Rome." I took it and took a deep pull, the smoke tingled as I held it in my chest.

"There ya go!" Harry cheered me on, John was still coughing.

"Ellie sure likes you." John said once his coughing had stopped.

"Right!" I exhaled, "crazy, shit."

We passed the joint back and forth until it burned our fingers. Harry flicked the cherry off and put the roach in a small container.

"Alright, well, I got some COD calling my name, peace out, my dudes." Harry got up and went back inside.

"Thought I was the bad boy, what's up with that?" I punched John lightly on the arm.

John moved his tank top aside to reveal his scar, "nope, I'm the bad boy, remember? You're a classic example of a job-stealing immigrant." He fell into me laughing.

"Must be." His laughter was contagious, I doubled over into him, laughing until I coughed.

I composed myself and lit a cigarette, John looked at me, eyes cracked open and red, dopey grin on his face.

"You're pretty sexy with a baby, all domestic and sweet and shit."

I grinned at him, flicking my cigarette, "you're pretty sexy being all macho, going on runs, fighting with your brother, smoking dope." I bit my lip.

He gripped a handful of my hair and kissed me, I growled into his mouth, pent up tension spilling out. He pulled away, letting his fingers slide through my hair, they caught in snares at the ends. Mood killed, he leaned forward, his mind clouded and high, sole focus on my hair.

"Jesus, babe. What did you do to your hair?"

I laughed, "the baby was all sticky, but she really liked my hair."

He shook his head and giggled, a little noise that was more shoulder shake than sound.

"I guess I should take a shower. That okay?"

"Mi casa, su casa."

I followed him in and took a shower, using his toiletries, not willing to exert the energy to unpack my own. The weed dizzied my mind, the steaming water doing little to sober me. I made it through the shower and even remembered to scrunch the oil from the green bottle John left on the sink into my hair, 'it'll make your hair so healthy!' he insisted a few weeks ago. Wrapped in my towel, I tiptoed across the hall to our room where I bent to get clothes out of my suitcase. He was in the bed, eyes shut, licking his lips, smacking his mouth. I dressed and watched him, he still had that dopey grin plastered on his face.

"You thirsty, querido?" I whispered.

"So thirsty." he smacked his lips again.

I chuckled at him.

"Where are the cups in the kitchen?"

"In the cabinet by the, um... in the... next to the fridge, by the, um... where mom kept the pickled stuff, um…"

"I'll find them. Water?"

"Tea. Fridge."

"Gotcha."

I stalked downstairs through the quiet house and opened three sets of cabinets before finding glasses, water from the door of the fridge for me and tea for him. I heard a scoff from behind me. Jem grabbed the rolled up bag of chips off the counter and slunk away. _Fuck you, too._ I took John his drink and he gulped it impressively quick. I sat in bed next to him and discarded my shirt.

"Thanks." he opened his eyes halfway to look at me.

"You got any of that shit at home?" I asked him.

"Nope, I don't really smoke any more, but you know... Harry. It's just us together, how we are, we're the bad ones."

I snuggled up to him, the high making him so pliant and moveable, he turned into me and kissed me.

"How many guys did you fuck in this bed, Jackie?" my voice a low growl.

He shivered against me, rolling his hips into mine at the dirty talk.

"Um…" I watched his mind working, faculties reduced by the weed, counting, "two girls, five or six guys."

"Girls?"

"I tried really hard to be straight."

"I'm glad it didn't work." Possessiveness crept into my voice, I groped his body under the blankets.

"Me too." His voice a tiny whisper.

I took him in hand and stroked, nipping his collarbones and neck, he whimpered as pleasure surrounded him.

"Shut up, querido. Wouldn't want little Jemmy knowing what gay, sinful things his brother and his brother's terrible, bible burning boyfriend were doing in here, would we?" i clapped a hand to his mouth, his cock twitched in my other hand. Being silenced turned him on more, _file that shit away to use later._ I felt his breath heavy and damp against my palm.

"I know you like this shit, sneaking around with me, cock in my hand, your whole family sleeping here and look at what we're doing. Wanna make you scream, come so hard you wake the whole house up."

He whimpered something that sounded like my name against my hand, I took myself in hand and kept working him, he shoved my hands away from my erection and stroked me hungrily. I moved my other hand away from myself and tucked it behind his head, dragging him closer to me.

"Alex." he panted into my neck.

"God, I fucking love your body, John." _Wanted to just tell him I love him, everything about it, can't wear it out, though, say that shit too much._

"Alex." His breath caught and he bit hard on my chest to stifle his moans, coming in my hand, I joined soon after. He sighed and nuzzled in closer, loose hair tickling my chest.

"Goodnight, babe. I love you, I'm so glad you're here." he breathed, his accent now omnipresent.

"Night, querido, I love you too." _It's true, I do. So much. Too much._

I listened to him sleep, looking at the dark shadows of the drawings of the wall, less refined than what he could do now and finally fell asleep with him.

"John, John, get up." I heard Martha knocking at the door, her voice sounded thick and low.

He sat up, wiping his eyes, "Pats?"

She opened the door, "John, we need to go." I saw her wipe her face, she looked like John when she cried. I put a steeling hand on his back.

"'Kay. Okay, give us a second to get ready."

"I'm getting the kids, David's on his way for Ellie." She sniffed and closed the door.

John's cheek was a hollow dent, sunken between his teeth, chin wavering. I hugged him, "it's alright, let's go." I whispered in his ear, sweeping curls behind his ear.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello again! My lovely reviewers called it, we've got angst on angst on angst, y'all. It's gotta get worse before it gets better, but better will come. Mimi, I wish Alex wasn't so self-deprecating, too. I want to make him better, but it's who he is this go round (I cry). Buckle up, gang. Here we go. Please please review, your kind words mean the world to me and keep me pumping out content. Thanks for being here!**

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The long car ride was silent. Mary driving, Harry in the seat next to her, John and I in the back seat. Jem and Polly followed in his car. No one spoke, Martha had filled us in that their father was declining fast, organs failing rapidly. He wasn't expected to make it through the night. John's knees bounced, he held my hand across the bench seat, eyes firmly fixed out the window. _Want a fucking cigarette. Everything hot, wet, the smell, mama, I cried so much. I was so scared. Everyone I knew… gone._ I shook the memories away and focused on rubbing John's hand, writing stream of consciousness on the back of his hand with my fingertip. _Wish I had a pen and paper…_ _And a cigarette._

Back to the parking garage, back in the elevator. We got to the ICU floor and Martha punched the code. I was hand in hand with John.

"Really? He's coming? Isn't this a _family_ situation?" Jem spat, eyes like John's trained on me. I held his gaze with my own.

I heard John's breath catch.

"James, keep it together. That is our brother." Martha hissed.

"I'm just saying. Think about what dad would want."

"I'll just be right out here," I squeezed John's hand, pressing my lips into a thin… _smile?_ Biting them shut from the inside of my mouth. _Time and place, Hamilton_.

"You mind keeping this stuff?" John passed off his messenger bag, looking crestfallen.

"No problem. Right out here." I repeated, I craned up to kiss his forehead.

The Laurens siblings disappeared through the door and I flopped in a hard, vinyl waiting room chair. _I have permission to root in his bag, right? Certainly. He won't mind._ I pulled his sketchbook and an inking pen out - and proved that you could look through his bag quietly, that would certainly come as a surprise to him - flipped to a clean page, not paying attention to all of the incarnations of me he'd drawn on the previous pages. I wrote the stream of consciousness that was threatening to split my head open, _well, that and the nicotine/caffeine headache_. Didn't want to not be here if he needed me, no cigarette for a while, no coffee either.

His phone buzzed, a call. At two a.m.? Should I? _Fuck it._ I pulled his phone out, the caller ID read **Baguette**. I shook my head with a chuckle and answered it, not wanting to cause panic, sure John had texted him.

"Salut, Lafayette." I greeted him.

"Alexander, bonsoir, is John okay? He sent me a Save Our Ship text message."

"Oui, oui, John's fine, his dad… tonight's probably it."

Lafayette sighed, "merde. Is the family okay? His brother?"

"Jem? Yeah, he's something."

"When I meet him in school, it took everything in my body to not tell him, 'casse toi!' for every single day. He is such an asshole, you did not even know how much worse his father is."

"Yeah," I laughed.

"How are you liking the South Carolina?"

"It's different."

"Very, I would not have stayed in America, except I visit New York in high school, I knew that I had to live here, but John's home is no place for me, and the humidity, my hair!"

I laughed, "yeah, no, I'll take a bite outta the big apple any day."

His voice turned serious, "you will call me when…?"

"I'll call you."

"You have my number?"

"Yup."

"Good luck, goodnight."

"Bye, Lafayette."

I tucked John's phone back away and kept writing. The clock ticked on, long hand circling the clock face a full revolution. Much longer and I'd owe John a new sketchbook. The heavy automatic doors swung open and John came out and found me, I stood to wrap him in my arms, despising my stature, _one more way I was inferior at comforting him._ He tucked his chin on my shoulder.

"Yeah?" I asked softly. Trying not to be presumptuous.

"Yeah." His shoulders shook.

"Sorry, John." I tightened my grip, trying to keep his pieces together.

He cried into me, "he was such an asshole. No more. No more hitting. No more screaming. No more hate, but, but he's gone. Polly and… I just… What are we gonna do?"

John pulled away from me and pawed his tears away, Polly came through the doors, crying, her long hair down her back, same curls, same long lashes clumping as she cried. John held her, setting his face, he _was_ the fixer. Harry came out next, his face a haunted mask of anger, he held Polly from the other side and the brothers closed the circle, huddled in a sibling triad and whispering consolation to each other.

I sat back in the chair and picked at my jeans, nudging John's leg with my shoe, reminding him I was there and loved him, ready to try and fix him when he was done fixing them. The siblings carried on that way for twenty minutes until Martha and Jem appeared, his arm around her shoulders. She looked refined even with hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, eyes red from crying. John opened the circle for them to join and held Martha, she leaned on him. Jem threw a look over his shoulder at me. I returned a tight lipped smile, _time and place, Hamilton, be cool._

I waited patiently for them to compose themselves and pulled my phone out to text Lafayette.

 **It's over.**

 **He OK?**

 **I… think so… siblings are weird.**

 **LOL. Are you OK, mon ami?**

 **Yup.**

John and Martha were the first to break apart. John found my hand again and we walked out to the car.

"I wanna go with John." Polly clung to him opposite me.

"Of course you do." Jem sneered.

"James, I swear to God in heaven." Martha hissed.

"I'll go with Jem." Harry offered, snapping the tension.

We scattered in the parking garage, "sorry, Alex, do you mind sitting up front?" Still the fixer, John held his little sister.

I smiled at him and took my seat beside Martha. She gripped the steering wheel and blinked rapidly, blew out a breath and put on her seatbelt. Polly cried noisily in the backseat, John helped her buckled her seatbelt and sat in the middle to hold her tight, I looked at him in the rearview mirror. I stayed quiet.

"I… There's nothing to feed these people," Martha muttered under her breath, I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or herself, "gotta stop by the store. God bless it."

"I can go in for you." I offered quietly.

"I can't ask you to do that, Alexander."

"I don't mind." I sighed, keeping my eyes forward, hearing her sniffing again, couldn't bare to see John's crying face in stereo on the two ladies in the car.

"Thank you. Just, uh, some, eggs and cheese, John you still don't eat meat?"

"Nope." His voice cracked in the backseat, sounding a million miles away.

"Uh, yeah, eggs and cheese, milk, go ahead and get some sausage or bacon, or whatever for those of us who do, and some kinda danish or somethin', some fruit. God, that's a lot, you sure you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all."

We drove for a while still and she came up on a grocery store, Piggly Wiggly? _Jesus Christ, get me back to New York, you really name an establishment that? What the actual fuck?_

John passed his card up to me, "1754's the PIN."

I took the card, "back in a flash, eggs, cheese, milk, meat, danish, fruit?" I repeated the list to Martha.

She nodded, "yup, thank you, Alexander."

I got out and found a cart, pushed it through the doors of… Piggly Wiggly, and started shopping.

I found a big cantaloupe and a watermelon, more blackberries, since I'd watched John eat some yesterday, made my way to the bakery, half dozen donuts, assorted danishes, back to the dairy and meat coolers, pound of bacon, tube of sausage, two gallons of two percent, 3 dozen eggs, large bag of cheese. I had no idea if any of this was the right amount, _how do you feed 8 people? I barely feed myself._ On the way to the checkout I stopped and got a box of Cocoa Puffs, remembering the delighted revelation that that was not only mine, but John's favourite cereal.

I checked out, the cashier asking too many friendly questions. Punched John's PIN: 1754, then collected the bags and went outside, John got out to help me load them into the hatchback.

"Thank you." He took his card back and kissed me chastely, squeezing my hand as we broke apart to different sides of the car.

The house was another fifteen minutes away, the sun peeking through the trees when we pulled in. John and I carried the groceries in the house. Martha pulled out the griddle and pans, John shooed her away, "sis, we got this. Go freshen up." He hugged her again. We heard David coo goodbyes to her and Ellie in the living room, something about a long day at the office.

I took everything out of the shopping bags and waited for further directions.

"Okay, can you get the…" John was in full control of the situation, turned around and saw the groceries set out on the island, saw his cereal, smiled at me, the grin reaching his sunken eyes.

"Yeah?" I asked, flatly. _Don't make it a thing, I did sweet shit, I do that sometimes._

"Right, sorry, can you get that fruit cut up? Let me get you a knife, and there's cuttin' boards under there in that cabinet."

I grinned and followed orders, "your voice kills me." I took the knife he handed me.

"Doesn't take but a day, and it's like I never left. Stay this way for a week once we get back home. Laf'll pick on me the whole damn time, too."

"I mean, I will too." I slid the sharp knife through the watermelon. _How the fuck do you cut a watermelon?_

John started making the eggs and bacon and sausage, wrinkling his nose at the griddle as it sizzled. I kept hacking at the melons. He set a cup of coffee beside me.

Waiting for the food to cook John sat up on the counter and swung his legs, watching me, "darlin', what the hell are you doing to those poor melons?"

"Uh, I'm cutting them so we can have fresh fruit at breakfast." I tried to speak with conviction.

"Thank you, my love, but goddamn, here, let me show you."

"No, I got it," I gripped the knife tighter, hacking a wedge out of the cantaloupe, "see, it's fine."

He smiled and dropped off the counter, closing the distance to me, snaked his arms around my waist, nuzzling me from behind. I leaned back against him to offer comfort while I worked. He pulled away to stir the eggs and flip the meat and handed me a large bowl to dump the fruit into. Breakfast was ready and we dished it out family style, setting the large crocks and bowls out on the table in the kitchen where we'd had dinner last night. John got out paper plates and solo cups for milk and juice. He called everyone to the meal. We all sat in silence, staring at the food.

"Should we pray?" Polly asked, she'd changed her clothes and plaited her hair.

"You want to?" Martha asked.

"Think we should. We did after mama."

Martha smiled, "John?" She lifted an upturned hand in his direction, "you're the oldest boy."

I sensed the hard traditions of the Laurens house, as Martha, independent and self-assured, let John take her place.

Jem snickered, "been a minute since God heard your voice." _I make him talk to God all the time, asshole._ I smirked at my own internal joke and fixed my face to reflect the solemnity of the moment. We all held hands, I took John and Martha's.

John prayed with the confidence of someone who had sat through plenty of mealtime prayers, "Dear God, thank you for the blessings of the food which we are about to eat. Thank you... Lord for bringing our family together in these difficult times, that we may reflect on the love that unites us and find peace within each other and you in these days to come." He and Martha squeezed my hands and 'Amen' resounded around the table.

Harry was the first to scoop eggs and fruit onto his plate, took a donut from the box. He broke the seal and we all dished out our food, Martha fixing a plate for Ellie who ate greedily, offering pieces of slobber-melted donut and chewed on fruit to me from across the table. I smiled at the baby who cocked her head to side at me. I poked at a danish.

Jem chortled holding a piece of watermelon, "who fucked this up?"

"Me." I rose to the occasion, puffing my chest just enough, sick of letting it slide, tired of his mouth, sensing what it did to John when he chastised us.

"James." Martha shook her head, eyes narrow and dark.

He rolled his eyes at me, the fight leaving him, and mumbled under his breath, "thought fags were s'posed to be good cooks, they wanna do the women's work so bad."

John balled his fists under the table. I squeezed his knee under the table and stood to pour myself another cup of coffee, "anybody need anything while I'm up?"

John piped up, distracting himself "can you bring the paper towels, babe?" I got the roll and my coffee and handed him the towels.

"Thanks, darlin',"

"You got it."

John made a show of serving himself more fruit, eating it while staring at Jem. The rest of the meal was tense but silent.

"I'm so sorry," John whispered while we cleaned up the kitchen.

"It's fine."

"No, he's such a prick. Turned out just like our father."

"I see why you moved."

"Yup. Couldn't take this shit every day."

Martha walked into the kitchen, hair and makeup done, long summer dress on, Ellie clinging to her skirt, "I gotta go to church, start getting things set up with pastor. Me and little miss are headed out, got my phone, though, if you need me, Jackie. Thanks for breakfast and cleaning up." She walked close enough to John for a hug and he kissed her cheek.

"Patsy, why don't you leave the baby? Plenty of big-folk to watch her, you got enough to do."

"You sure? She can be a handful."

"I barely get to see her." John pleaded.

"Alright, well, call me if you need anything. Bye, baby, you stay here with John, mama loves you." She bent down and Ellie flung her arms around her mother.

"Bye, Pats," he held out a hand toward Ellie while I wiped down the cooktop.

"Did you really pull a 'Lord of the Rings'?" I smirked at him once Martha was gone.

"Huh?" He knit his eyebrows together.

"'Big-folk'? The baby a hobbit?"

"Oh, you would pick up on that."

I shrugged, "I'm well-read."

I poured another cup of coffee and joined John and the baby in the living room, he'd pulled her toys out and she was playing with a stuffed turtle, John lie prone on the floor with her. I sat in the armchair and rocked, my eyes closed, and sipped my coffee. Little hands on my knee made me open my eyes. Ellie was staring up at me, stuck a finger in her mouth and chewed at it.

"Hi, baby." I smiled and held my hand out to her. She giggled and ran away. John called after her, she pulled a book out of her diaper bag and ran back to me, put the book on my lap and crawled onto me.

"Book, huh? Girl after my own heart. Should we read? John, hold this." I held out my coffee and situated the baby on my knee, opening the book. He frowned into my mug, slighted at how much she liked me over him.

I read the first page, "if you give a cat a cupcake... you see the kitty? Yup, good job, there's the kitty... he'll want some sprinkles to go with it, when you give him the sprinkles, he might spill some on the floor... Uhoh!... Cleaning up will make him hot, so you'll give him a bathing suit... Well, that's preposterous, cats don't like water, do they, Ellie?" I kept reading, and glanced at John over the book, his pout had softened and he was watching me read to her, head tipped to the side.

After I finished the book, she clapped and took the book back, pointing at the picture of the cat. I set her on the ground.

"Alright, kiddo, go play with your uncle John, we've moved into the 'Hamilton hasn't had a cigarette in twelve long hours and has already refrained from killing people at least three times' portion of the day." I kept my voice light and bubbly in contrast to the meaning of the words and took my mug back from John.

I packed my cigarettes against my thigh as I walked to the porch and sat on the swing. Sweet, sweet nicotine hit my bloodstream. I stared at the glowing cherry. _My baby would be in grade school. Eliza would be such a good mom to a little girl like Ellie. Would my baby maybe even be an Ellie for Elizabeth? We could have called her Rachel for my mother. I was supposed to have this._ I flicked the ash off the cigarette and took another drag, swinging on the porch. I pushed the thoughts away, _happy now, with John, things better than they should be, better than I deserve._ Ellie pounded on the screen door, her mouth a suction cup on the glass. I waved and blew smoke. _Could have had that. A baby. One who liked books._ John swooped in and picked her up, she giggled in surprise and he pressed a dozen kisses to her chubby cheek and pointed to me, I could hear him through the storm door.

"Who is that? That your buddy? Is that Alexander? He's pretty awesome, isn't he. I love him an awful lot, too."

Hearing him, and watching him, the wind got knocked out of me, I swallowed hard and felt my heart double in size. _I'm the fucking grinch, heart doubling, bullshit._ I puffed the cigarette and waved at them. _Maybe I still could?_ I shook the thoughts free of my mind, _don't deserve it._ John bounced her and swung her upside down, swaying her from side to side. Her brunette curls, long and dangling as he suspended her by her ankles, she banged on the door for my attention. John bit his lip and grinned at me, eyes twinkling. _But... maybe._


	17. Chapter 17

**Little breather from the super heavy stuff, don't worry, there's still a whole funeral to cringe through. Some more backstory on John and his siblings. It gets a little heavy as we recount growing up in the Laurens house, consider yourselves warned. (Shadow, I love that you pick up on the historical references, especially that you call it a scavenger hunt, that's amazing. I'm curious to see if you pick any out of this chapter.) (Mimi, Alex is just who he is, maybe he'll finally see his worth someday? Today probably isn't that day... Tomorrow probably isn't either.) As always, thanks for reading and double thanks for leaving reviews, that's how I crank this much out so fast. You guys are all amazing. Enjoy!**

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John put Ellie down for a nap, Polly and Harry were watching a movie, Jem had gone out. Martha still wasn't back. We were up in John's room. He lie against my chest, sitting between my legs, his own long legs bent to fit. I twisted my fingers through his hair. He was staring at nothing in particular, jaw slacken, lips parted.

"How are you?" I checked in.

"Honestly, I'm just tired more than anything. It's almost a relief that he's… gone. Like so much of my bad died with him, but I'm tired, it was a long night." he hummed against me.

I moved my hands to his shoulders, rubbing them, thumbing the scar on his shoulder, he rolled his neck in response, stretching the stiff muscles. _Good job, Hamilton, you're doing this right,_ I smiled at myself.

"It was." I agreed.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" He sighed.

I blew out a breath, "who?"

"E-Eliza." He hesitated, her name whispered reverent like a prayer. _He remembered her name. And he's still fixing me, his dad just died and he's fixing me._

"Oh, it's fine."

"You'll be a really good dad someday, Alex." _She'd said those things to me once, too._

"Ha. I don't know about that." My voice stayed flat.

"I do. Ellie freaking loves you. I'm sorry about everything that happened to you, but I can't help but be grateful that at least now I get you."

I clamped my eyes shut behind him, "me too," I whispered into his hair.

"You sure you're okay, love?"

"Fine," I changed the subject, "forgot to tell you, Lafayette called you while you were… I answered it, hope you don't mind. Didn't want him to worry."

"Thanks," he sighed, "I need to call him back." He let his head drop against my chest and we sat like that for the better part of an hour, him dozing - but never quite sleeping - against me. Me caressing, rubbing, hair twirling, trying anything to soothe him. My mind swirled from the conversation with John. I was thinking about Eliza and what could have been, couldn't shake loose of it, but John felt so warm, so soft, _so right_ in my arms, his hand holding my forearm, near where I clasped my other wrist across the breadth of his chest. His breath deep from his daze, I held him tighter, his thumb rubbing soothingly over my arm.

I heard the front door open, it was probably Martha, didn't want her to think we'd abandoned her kid. I started to slip out from behind John, but stopped myself, if it was Jem, I wasn't sure I could control myself. Offhand remarks to me are one thing, I can deal with that, don't usually, but I can, but not when it was toward John. I couldn't bear to watch his brother treat him like that anymore than I already had. I'd seen John hurting enough on this trip and I would obliterate the next thing that brought him any more pain.

I curled back against him. Martha would find the baby snuggled up and napping, it was fine. I let myself nap with John, his warmth, and the rhythm of his slow breathing intoxicating me. As I slept, I dreamt of the big house filled with sound, the percussions of violence, John afraid, his siblings afraid, John hiding who he was. I woke up angry, _he shouldn't have had to live through that_. When I woke up all the way, John was gone. I got up and stretched, smoothing my t-shirt and jeans, retying my ponytail before going downstairs. The siblings were in the kitchen, papers spread out over the table, Martha pointing at different information on the pages. I stood in the threshold, silent, not sure if I should insert myself into the conversation. John sensed me - his human-cat, _still a dumb concept,_ watching from the corner - and waved me into the room. Slowly, I closed the distance. The paperwork was all from the funeral home. Poor Martha, she was on top of everything.

"I think Friday is good, gives people enough time to get in town, us to make plans, not too long for me and Alexander off work." John stated.

"You think two days is enough?" Harry pursed his lips in contemplation.

"It's gonna have to be, I can't be gone from work forever."

"They can't find someone else to take pictures for a day?" Jem crossed his arms.

"I do more than that, Jemmy."

"Not much."

Martha cut in, "enough, I agree Friday is perfect, people who want badly enough to be here will. I called dad's lawyer this morning to get the will situated. Jack, I don't know what he-"

John cut her off, his jaw set, "-it's fine, Patsy."

 _Seriously? The bastard wrote John out of the fucking will?_ I balled my fists, how could John's family be so shitty? The fights, the gunshot wound, the 'lost boy' all made so much more sense being here, seeing the treatment first hand.

I stood behind John, hands on his shoulders, "anything I can do?" I hated feeling useless and in the way.

"I'm not sure yet. Thanks, Alexander." Martha's smile was earnest.

I excused myself for a cigarette and checked my email. Story pitch from Adams. I rolled my eyes and read it, I could knock it out today, no problem. I reread the details and finished my smoke, going inside for a notebook. Wanting to stay out of the way, _and for God's sakes, work alone,_ I sat at John's cluttered desk - school papers dated a decade ago - and pushed them neatly to the side. A picture slipped out from the bottom of the stack.

Two gangly teens, arms around each other's shoulders on a beach, John skinny, sunburned and freckled, holding up a fish by the mouth and grinning, crooked teeth shackled in braces. Lafayette was beside him, all joints and limbs and odd angles of puberty, eyes crinkled behind blue, plastic framed glasses, grin too big and all teeth, his hair a picture perfect 70's afro from the Southern summer's humidity, a smudge of peach fuzz on his upper lip. Acne dotting both their shiny, pubescent faces. I laughed heartily and snapped a picture of the photograph and sent it to Lafayette.

 **BURN IT!**

I chuckled at his response and got started working on the story. I was almost done with it when the door cracked open, John slipped in and sighed, tossing himself into the bed, he looked small, like the boy in the picture.

"Jesus!" He exclaimed, seeing me in the corner, a hand on his heart, he swallowed and panted.

"Hi, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." I said sheepishly.

"No, it's just… I thought you were outside, sorry, are you working? I know you don't like to be bothered when you're working. I can go."

"You're fine. You okay? Seem flustered." I put my pen down and cracked my knuckles.

"Just a lot..."

"I get it."

"I know you do. Funeral's gonna be Friday, did you have any idea these things are so expensive? They charge you $250 just to dress him."

"Damn," I swiveled in his office chair, "found this." I handed him the photograph and he turned bright red, the colour of his sunburn in the picture.

"Oh, my God," he grinned and shook his head, "I'm… shoot, okay, Laf's there, so it's sophomore year, or maybe it's the start of… yup that's when we first became friends, he got here early, and so it's right before sophomore year, we'd only known each other for like a week there, that's summer we went to… I think that was the Kiawah Island Golf Resort, yeah, because mom was there… so that makes me… I'm fifteen in that picture." I loved watching his mind work _, sexy when he furrows his brow when he thinks._

"You're adorable is what you are."

"I gotta show Laf that you found this."

"Already did."

"What did he say?" John doubled over in laughter.

"He told me to burn the evidence."

"You wanna see some really incriminating shit?"

"Always." I winked at him. _Winked? That's a thing I do now?_

"Be right back." He got off the bed and left the room, I went back to working, put the finishing touches on the story as he returned with a thick photo album. He sat down and patted the bed beside him. I joined him and he flipped the cover marked 'John' open, immersing us in his memories.

He was so little, a baby, curly mop of hair, eyes still unsure of what colour to be, obligatory bath pictures. He told me anecdotes about each picture, each. His mom, looking so much like Martha snuggling him while he slept, his father sitting beside her, I could see how John resembled the younger, healthier version of his father, despite having the facial expressions of his mother. Next page, John about as old as Ellie, wore a party hat, face and hands covered in green frosting, a young Martha also in the picture. He grew up over the next pages, hair cut short, curls puffing around his face at bizarre and unflattering angles, the smattering of freckles getting darker. Vacation pictures, Disney world, a cruise ship, the bahamas. A grade school aged John sitting on a couch in the living room holding a baby, Harry. Slightly older John holding a different baby, Jem. Teenaged John holding a third baby, Polly, sitting on the couch that was still in the living room now. Him and Martha on a double tube going down a water slide. John and Harry playing soccer in the backyard. John biting a medal, wearing goggles and a swim cap. A page dedicated to gawky teenaged John and Lafayette's friendship, the same picture from earlier, and then nothing.

"Mom was the one who did all the scrapbooks," he explained the abrupt ending, "sucks more for Polly. She got the real shit end of the deal."

I nodded, _I know about shit ends of the deal._

"I need to get this sent off to Adams… bastard… but thanks for showing me, querido." I kissed his nose.

"Thanks for looking, mind if I stay in here? I'll be quiet, just want some down time before Abuela gets here."

"Your grandmother's coming?" _More new people?_

"Yeah, she's flying in from PR tonight. She only moved back like a month ago, I think I told you she lost her house."

I nodded, mentally adding _in the hurricane._

"You'll like Abuela, though, she's my mom's mom, she'll like you, too."

"Here's hoping."

"So, it's cool if I hang out here?"

"It's your room, I can't kick you out."

"You know what I mean, smart ass."

"No, you're fine."

I realized in the mad dash to get out of town, I'd left my laptop plugged in at home. _Fuck me._ I growled to myself and started typing the article in on my phone, flustered by the tiny keyboard.

"Goddammit! Stupid fucking... no, autocorrect... son of a motherfucker!" I backspaced all the messed up words to try again.

"You okay there, friend?" John said lightly, looking up from his own phone.

"No, it's this tiny goddamn keyboard, can't type out all this shit on here, left my computer."

"I'm sure you can use Harry's. C'mon." He got up and left the room, and leaned over the landing's railing to call down to Harry, still in the living room with Polly, I tried to catch John's hand, pull him back. _Don't put your brother out just for me._

"Harry, Alexander got hit with some work stuff, can he borrow your computer?"

"Sure thing, my dude!" Harry called back, pausing the movie, he ran up the stairs and opened the door to his bedroom, an impressive computer setup, three monitors sat on the desk, one mounted to the wall above the three, sleek looking gaming chair, a headset, hung on the arm of the chair, he knocked the headset to the floor and entered his credentials to unlock the computer, quickly shutting down the tabs he had open.

"This is… wow." I took in the setup.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, I'm a streamer." Harry agreed, getting up and offering me the seat.

"I don't think I even know what that means."

"Weirdos on the internet pay him money, real money, to watch him play games that they could play." John explained.

"That's a thing?" I asked.

"Yeah, Twitch, it's a super legit thing." Harry chortled at my ignorance.

"I guess I'm older than I thought." I sat in the chair, it was comfortable, would be easy to spend hours in.

"Cool, well, there you go. John, you wanna…?" Harry made a circle with his thumb and forefinger and tapped it against his lips, waggling his eyebrows.

"Uh… When does Abuela get here?" John contemplated.

"Not for like four more hours, you'll be fine."

"Sure, man, let's go."

Harry rifled under his mattress and produced a box, not unlike a lunchbox and sat on his bed to roll a joint. I started working on his computer. _This is some surreal shit._

"Come join us when you're done." John kissed my forehead as Harry licked the seam of the joint.

I worked quickly to transcribe the article and fired it away to Adams, John and Harry were still outside, much like I'd found them the previous night. John's eyes barely open, he grinned that same dopey smile and motioned for me to sit next to him. I lit a cigarette.

"We're all out, but I got more in my room if you want some, Alexander." Harry was ever the gracious host.

"I'm alright, thanks. Could go for a stiff drink, though. Can't believe I had to fucking work, Adams is such a prick. Told him I was out of town for a family emergency." I flicked my cigarette.

"You said it was for family?" John's inhibitions were low, he prodded where sober John might not have. _Come on, does this have to be a thing? Really, John?_

"Well, yeah, I didn't know what else to call it, 'the guy I've been seeing for a few months is having a crisis so I'm hopping on a plane tomorrow for an indeterminate amount of time, see ya, bye,' seems a little wordy even by my standards."

John snuggled against me, "I'm winning! You called me 'family'."

Harry laughed playfully at our exchange, "yo, if you want a drink though, we got the hookup downstairs, dad's bar is now officially my bar."

"Oh, you wish. You aren't even old enough to drink!" John rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Never stopped you, Jackie," he closed one eye and held up his hand, two fingers and his thumb out, hand turned flat, palm down, and bent his thumb "chick-a-blah."

"Yes, ha ha, very funny, asshole, I was underaged drinking and got myself shot over being an idiot. Let that be a lesson to you, grasshopper."

"Really, a good cautionary tale." I agreed.

"Dude, if you woulda been there…" Harry turned his attention to me, "so, John comes home bleeding like a stuck pig and he tries to clean up in the bathroom like there's not a damn bullet in him, psh, man, he almost fainted in the bathroom, pale as hell, looked like ET, so, 'course dad finds him, 'cause he's up here hollerin' and crying. I thought dad was gonna beat him dead before bleeding out even had a chance to kill him. Shit, you had that black eye for a month."

John chewed his cheek, "nuh-uh, the black eye was from school, remember, cause I got in that fight, and then when I went to square up on it and get revenge that's when Charles Lee pulled the fuckin' gun on me. Dad busted my lip that night. The black eye he gave me that you're thinking about was when he caught me and Frankie Kinloch in bed together."

"Pardon me for not being able to keep all your injuries straight. Hah, you remember my eighth grade year when I told dad I was gay, too, to try and get him to back off of you? He beat the fuck outta me."

"I think that was the second time he kicked me out, 'cause remember, I went to stay with the family Lafayette was with that year, since dad stopped hosting exchange kids when mom died. Dude, I thought he was gonna kill you, dummy, still can't believe you did that."

"Eh, I was old enough to take it, deflect some of it off you."

"Jesus Christ! This is normal?" My mouth hung open, eyes darting between them as they spoke so casually about incredible violence. I shook my head and lit another cigarette. John leaned against me, riding out his high.

They both shrugged and Harry laughed, "welcome to the family, my dude. This is how the Laurens gang rolls."


	18. Chapter 18

**Boom, another chapter. I didn't have it in me to get this out yesterday, so I appreciate your patience! I at least try to keep chapters long. Thank you so much for reading, reviews mean the world to me!**

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"Boys! Come help Abuela!" Martha shouted from the front door.

The three Laurens boys got up and hurried out the door. _Am I a 'boy'?_ I got up, too, deciding my status didn't matter. _How many people does it take to carry in a suitcase?_

By the time I got to the doorway, they were returning with the suitcases, Martha held the elbow of an older, heavy set Hispanic woman, a long gray braid down her back.

John came in first, setting one of her bags down, she grabbed him for a hug and examined him, "ay, nieto! Ack, still the cabello, why you do this, John?" she mussed up his long hair.

"I like it long, abuela! Come in, I want you to meet someone," he closed the gap between us, "abuela, este es mi novio, Alexander. Babe, this is abuela Maria."

I offered a hand to shake but she pulled me into a hug. I stiffened, especially at her smell; maybe it was my mind tricking me, but she smelled like the island… _like home._ Like salt and sun, crayola-coloured barrios, and smoky food charing outside, sticky sweet piragua melting in the hands of children playing kick the can, and trumpets honking in the heat as sweaty bodies danced in the streets, like cheers of 'wepa' and fresh limes, and clothes drying on a line. I swallowed and pulled away.

She inspected me and touched my hair, not unlike how she had with John. I smiled gently, "hola, señora, me llamo Alexander."

Her eyes lit up, "tu hablas español?"

I nodded, "si,"

John pulled his grandmother away and sat her in the armchair with a glass of ice water, she sang praises of my being Latino to John. I joined them in the living room. Polly complained that she didn't understand them since her Spanish wasn't very good.

"I thought I taught you more when I lived here, niña." Abuela admonished.

"I'm not good at it." Polly sighed.

Abuela shook her head at her granddaughter, "I know all of you, enough," she tutted, "Alexander, I want to know about you, mijo."

I shrugged, John squeezed my knee through the discomfort and ripped off the bandaid, "he's from the island, abuela."

I stared at the ground. _Here we go._

"Ah, John, a true boricua, you've done well, mijo. How long you dating for?"

"A couple of months, still new." John answered her.

She made a sound of approval, "but you live in New York?"

I nodded.

"For long time?" She continued.

I nodded.

"You miss the island? For the four months I was gone I missed it terribly."

I shrugged noncommittally.

"So quiet. Why? Is good, the island, do not be ashamed you come from there."

"Abuelita, Alexander did not come to New York for… very nice reasons…"

His grandmother sensed the trauma stewing under the surface and smiled warmly, ready to change the subject. It was Polly who pushed, quiet, nervous voice asking, "what happened?"

"Poll'," John said protectively, hand tightening on my knee.

"Yeah, what did happen?" Jem pushed harder.

Abuela looked between her grandchildren, unsure of what to say. _Me too, granny._

"Is it sad?" Polly knit her eyebrows together in concern.

I swallowed, my mouth dry, "abuela isn't the only person who lost everything in a hurricane." My lips twitched, unsure if they wanted to smile to calm the scene, if I were grimacing in pain, or if I was about to say more. I got up and packed my cigarettes as I walked to the front door.

John hurried after me, "this seat taken?" He motioned next to me on the porch swing.

I shrugged and flicked my cigarette.

"I'm sorry. My family can be a little much. I knew it would be hard since abuela lives there, she's gonna want to talk to you about it, but it was uncool of Polly and Jem to push you like that."

"It's fine, John." I took another drag.

He reached out and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, I jerked away from him.

"Alex, please, don't do this."

I sighed, it wasn't fair to do this to him, not today, I wasn't even mad at him, just the world. Being around John's family held up a mirror to all that I'd lost or wouldn't have, but this was between me and myself. I settled closer to him and smiled faintly.

"It's okay, babe." He leaned over and whispered.

Harry appeared at the screen door and gestured for us to come in, "abuela's making dinner, come downstairs real quick."

John rolled his eyes and we followed him to the basement, there was a full wet bar and entertainment room, an office off to the side with floor to ceiling books and a mahogany desk, I gaped at the beauty of it.

Harry slid behind the bar, "what's your poison? Look like you could go for a drink after that shit show. I'm gonna drag old man here off for another run soon, so I figure I better get you liquored up before I turn you loose with Jem and Polly."

"Whiskey." I told him.

John sighed, knitting his eyebrows together and looked at me, wrapped an arm around my back, "you mind if we go?"

I shook my head, "go, have fun… If that's the right word."

I slugged back the whiskey, keeping a straight face as it stung my nostrils, it tasted expensive, Harry's eyes were wide, "what a man!" I slid the glass back to him.

"Impressive, right?" John laughed to his brother.

"Very."

"I'm glad that my party trick of moderate alcoholism is so impressive to you, gentlemen." I rolled my eyes, but smiled.

We started to go back upstairs, and John stopped me, "just… by the way, you have my permission to kick my brother's ass anytime."

Harry guffawed, "you have _our_ permission to kick _our_ brother's ass anytime."

"I try really hard not to kick asses, but good to know." I smiled at them.

"Hey, Alexander, do you wanna come with us?" Harry offered.

I shook my head and made a face, "I don't run."

"Unless something's chasing you?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"Not even then. That's when I kick ass."

The brothers laughed at my joke as we crested the landing. The house smelled like the island, abuela standing at the stove with Polly beside her, a pot of rice and beans simmering in sauce, meat sizzling on the stove next to it. I closed my eyes and took a deep inhale. John snuggled tightly against my side.

"Look! There he is!" Martha cheered and Ellie ran into the kitchen to find me.

I swooped down and she lifted her little arms to me, I picked her up and she hugged John, little legs tucking in on either side of my hip. Martha had her phone out and was taking pictures.

"That's pretty sweet." John smiled around the baby at me.

"Ready to go, bro?" Harry asked John.

John kissed the baby and detached himself from her grip, she looked back at me, lip stuck out, eyes shiny with tears.

"No, no, no," I bounced her, "John, you monster!" I hissed at him.

He winced at her and shrugged in silent apology, going upstairs to change. I took the baby into the living room and sat her down, could hear Polly and Maria talking in the kitchen as they cooked together.

Martha smiled at me, from beside David, leaning against him, glass of wine in hand, "thanks so much for everything, Alexander."

I waved it off, but she insisted, "no really, thank you. It's been such a long day, I can't even begin to thank you for being here. For being here for John, he's been through so much, I'm so happy to see him have something good in his life, and I couldn't pick anything better than you for him. You guys have seriously only been together for a few months?"

"Uh, yeah, he started at work a couple months ago and we kinda started getting to know each other, and here in the last few weeks got really close."

"Amazing, most guys wouldn't have dropped everything for someone they'd just gotten with."

"He's the… good in my life, too. I wanted to help, I guess." I wasn't sure why I was telling her this, but it was the truth.

"Back for dinner!" Harry shouted from the hall.

"Bye, family!" John echoed.

The storm door slammed in the foyer and John and Harry set off.

"I better go help abuela." Martha finished her wine and went into the kitchen. David and I chatted, picking up our conversation from the previous night, Jem had his face in his phone.

I went out for a cigarette after reading another book to Ellie and scrolled through Twitter, enjoying the alone time - feeling my people skills gain a second with - and the cooler breeze of twilight. John and Harry finally appeared at the edge of the property, John lagging just behind, he ducked his head and pushed harder, ponytail bouncing behind him and caught Harry just barely by the shirt and tackled him, throwing them both to the ground, they looked like lion cubs learning to take down prey by playing. I couldn't help but laugh as I lit another smoke. Harry had gained the upper hand and was pinning John, John was able to get back up and grappled Harry's head, giving him an old fashioned noogie, they helped each other up, John wiping grass off himself, and plucking a green blade off Harry's back, they strolled up the drive chatting casually. John waved at me and grinned, Harry said something I couldn't hear that made John clap and double over laughing. John jumped the last step on the porch and grabbed me in a sweaty hug, pheromones intoxicating me, damp and sweaty. Harry went ahead inside, giving us a precious moment alone together.

"Is it bad form to want to take you and have you on a day like today?" I growled into his ear, gripping the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck.

"I hope so, can think of no better way to memorialize my small-minded, backwards as hell dad than having hot, super gay sex in his house the night after he died." he whispered into my ear and mirrored my posture and grabbed a handful of hair, eliciting a frantic exhale from me.

"We better go in and act like civilized people for your family, dinner's probably ready by now."

"Want you to be my dinner, baby, goddamn, look at you."

"You've gotta knock this shit off or I can't promise I won't have you right here on the porch."

"C'mon, let's go in." He smacked my ass and we went back inside, people were starting to congregate in the kitchen.

"Ay, niños, dirty and smelly, no time to shower before dinner, just wash your hands, why are you covered in grass stains?" Abuela shook her head at John and Harry.

John complied and washed his hands before he plated himself a large serving of rice and beans. I took some of everything, John side eyed at me taking some of the chicken.

"What's that face for, Jackie?" Polly called him out.

John laughed, "so, funny story. When I first met Alexander, he told me that he didn't eat meat, I was like, 'oh, super cool, I'm vegetarian, too, yay' but he totally does eat meat and I've been trying to figure it out ever since."

"Oh, yeah, no, I was totally blowing smoke, just wanted to waste Adams' money, wasn't really that hungry, but that seemed like not something you bring up when you first meet a co-worker… And looking at you made me too nervous to eat." I admitted.

A chorus of 'awh's from the women around the table.

"I see how it is," he rolled his eyes and took a bite, "so good, abuela, gracias!"

The older woman smiled and tucked into her own meal. I ate passionately, it had been awhile since I'd had real Puerto Rican food. She was a good cook, too.

After dinner John announced that it had been a long day, he desperately wanted a shower and to sleep. I agreed that it was time for bed, an early night by anyone's standards, but at this point we were pushing 19 hours of being awake and loaded down with stress. Goodnights were said, John hugged his grandmother, I waved to the table and followed him upstairs.

"They're gonna talk for awhile, only one to worry about is maybe Jem, but whatever. Shower with me?"

I recalled meeting Laf, "we kind of have a knack for getting caught."

"Fuck it, we're adults, come on, Alex. Live a little. I'll make it worth it." His thumb grazed my hip bone.

"Fine." I relented, sneaking into the bathroom with him.

He locked the door with a click and stripped out of the sweaty, grassy clothing and stepped into the shower, letting the water warm up. I stripped off my own clothes and joined him, eager to touch him, his skin sticky from sweat, I kissed his shoulder and licked the salt off my lips. He bent his neck down to kiss my neck, I breathed into his shoulder, he pressed us together.

"Are you okay?" I asked, stroking his arm.

He let out a deep breath, water steaming and misting around him, dampening his curls.

"Right now? Naked in the shower with you is where we're gonna talk about this?"

"John." A hard edge in my tone.

"I-I guess so. Nothing really feels real yet, like, just being here, I'm still scared, like he's right down the hall, like another beating's right there with him."

I didn't know what to say to help the situation, so I listened. Tears pricked the corners of John's eyes. I hugged him, misty spray hitting my face. I thought back to our last shower together and spun him around, taking his shampoo in hand, I reached up and washed his hair, detangling it with my fingers, he sighed as I massaged his scalp.

"That feels really good." He tilted his head back and let his mouth fall open.

"I know you like it, I remember you doing it for me." I rinsed the shampoo out.

"Want me to wash yours?" He asked. I wasn't done fixing him, helping him, but I could feel him deflecting the attention away from himself and got an idea.

"Sure." I could sense the glint in my eye.

He turned to get the shampoo and I dropped to my knees in front of him.

"That's not necessary, I'm the tall one." He said in ignorance.

I wrapped my mouth around him and sucked deeply, swallowing to the hilt.

"Oh, oh, Alex. Okay." His breath hitched.

I pulled away and looked up at him, "well, aren't you going to wash my hair?"

"Oh, right, yeah, sorry." He stuck his hands in my hair and massaged my head, I took him back in my mouth, bobbing deeply.

His hands tightened in my hair as a whimpered pealed out of him, I didn't relent. His hands kept working in my hair, soap running into my eyes, I couldn't find it in me to care, though, dedicated to my cause. His breathing came rapidly, I wrapped my arm around him, claiming handfuls of his ass, felt the muscles twitch as he worked to stay standing. He came in a burst, I swallowed the offering hungrily. He helped me back up.

"Amazing." He sighed, looking exhausted.

I wiped my mouth with the wet back of my hand, "don't mention it."

We finished our shower and I stepped out first, handing him a towel, he shivered as the cold air hit him. I pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back quickly to get him warm from the friction. We brushed our teeth together, taking turns at the sink, an action so domestic my head spun. We then dressed quickly and slipped quietly into the bedroom.

He curled up into the bed, I sat on the edge, plugged my phone in and set an alarm before tucking in beside him, his eyes were shut already. I pulled the chain on the bedside lamp, thrusting us into darkness. He rolled over into me, pulling me to him.

"I love you." Sleep had thickened his voice.

"I love you, too, querido," _and I did._


	19. Chapter 19

**Welcome back, thank you so much for reading! Shadow, funny that you pick up on the nuances, there's a little bit more crossover back in New York, but I wanted to give that sense of home to Alex and really highlight the void he feels. Paggers, don't think I didn't think about naming her Claudia, but John's real maternal grandmother was named Mary, so while I did take the liberty of making her Spanish, I wanted to stay true to the name. I love me some ITH, but other than little quirks that sneak in, I'm trying to keep the Hamilton arrow true. More smut this chapter.**

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I was already awake when John started to stir, my alarm hadn't even gone off. At some point in the night we'd switched from me holding him to him holding me. I sighed and stretched back into his chest, fitting myself into the 'me' shaped space that seemed to exist against his body. Sensing a heaviness in my nasal passages I rubbed the bridge of my nose and swallowed against the itch in my throat, _should really quit smoking._ Sun streamed in around the edges of the curtains. I felt so much more comfortable being surrounded by him than even a week ago. He held the keys to the cells I'd spent so long locking up and was on a mission to set my demons free. _But maybe that was okay._ If my heart was a prison, I wanted him to be the warden.

"It's still real, isn't it?" his voice was syrupy, thick from sleep and the accent that had crept in since our arrival.

My fingertips connected the dots between the freckles on the arm slung over me and I sighed, breathing him in in the stillness, "yeah, it's still real." My own voice hoarse and squeaky from sleeping.

He took a deep breath and cuddled in closer to me, fitting my head perfectly under his chin, "that's a bummer."

"It's still really early. We don't have to get up yet. We both passed out early last night."

"Good. Just wanna be here with you."

I rolled over to face him, he looked exhausted, _like I usually look_. Deep purple creases under his eyes, lips chapped, face swollen from his shed tears. I thumbed his cheek, trying to wipe away the fatigue, polish his face back to the beautiful, shiny countenance I was falling for. He was so haggard. Eyes closed, he puckered his lips, searching the air for my own. I indulged his silent plea and kissed him. He moaned, a sound more exhaustion than arousal, and groped at me under the sheets. I leaned into his touch, warm from sleeping, his body felt so inviting. I broke our kiss to adjust myself higher on the bed to reach him more easily, hand still against his cheek, he turned into my touch and bit my thumb, sucking and lapping at the callused skin. I grunted at the sensation and pulled my thumb out of his mouth, swiping at his full lips. His eyes were hooded with lust.

"Mm, you're too good." I ducked down and nipped his collarbones.

"Alex, God, what are you doing to me?" He ground against me, his hardness throbbing.

"Pleasing you?"

"Fuck, yeah, you are. Please. Please?"

"What, baby, what do you want?"

"You. Please. I want you."

"Yeah? Woke up in quite the mood this morning." I wedged my hip between his legs, he gasped at the pressure.

"Yes. Yes. Please," he begged.

I stripped his boxer briefs off and took him in hand, he hissed. I backed off and got up, going to my bag, retrieved a roll of condoms and a small bottle of lube. His eyes lit up and watched me hungrily as I sat between his legs. He trilled as I slid a lubed finger into him. I lie over him, arm threaded between his legs making him ready.

"That what you want so bad?" I whispered in his ear.

"I do. You know I do."

"You have to be quiet, everyone's still sleeping. Can you do that?"

He nodded, "I can. I'll be quiet."

"Promise? If not I'll have to find something that will shut you up."

"Promise just-" I hooked my fingers, "-nng, please, I'm ready."

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"Won't hurt me, just need you."

I retrieved my fingers and rolled a condom on before settling between his legs again. I pushed in and he squeaked, biting down on his hand as I pressed in to the base.

"Feel okay?" I wiped his hair away from his forehead, just pricking with sweat.

"It's good, feels so good. Yes, fuck me."

I rocked out halfway before pressing in again, I found a rhythm that pleased us both, laying flat against him, giving his swollen cock friction, he bucked against me. In dawn's dim light peeking around the curtains I could see his face, _beautiful,_ screwed up in ecstasy, jaw clenched. I kept my composure and nibbled down his ear to his carotid artery, lapped at his collarbone, bit a trail down his chest to his nipple. I lavished attention on the tender flesh, his hips bucked and he wrapped his legs around me, back arching toward me, the tiniest whine. I thrust into him deeper and gripped his hair.

"Gotta be quiet, querido." I whispered against his flesh.

His short nails dug at my back, I seethed into him, the pain inspiring quicker and harder thrusts, the headboard knocked into the wall and I regained control over the pace of my hips. He giggled at my lack of self-possession and sucked at my adam's apple, the heat of his mouth threw me over the edge and I came hard, gasping into the valley of his chest. He came from the change in friction between us, spurting sticky heat between us.

"Love you so much." He nuzzled into me.

I pulled out after I collected myself and tossed the condom in the trash under the desk, reached for his dirty running t-shirt to clean his spend off of our bellies.

"Love you, too, that was spectacular. Sure I didn't hurt you?"

"No, Alex, I'm fine. Promise, now come cuddle me."

I tangled my sweaty body with his and we breathed each other in, "we should get up soon."

"I know," he sighed, "so, hey, I'm thinking about just getting tickets home tomorrow night for after the funeral."

"You sure you wanna go back that soon? Your abuela just got here and-"

He let out a heavy breath and I let him pull me tighter to him, "I wanna go home. I hate it here. I hate this house, I hate this room. This isn't my life anymore."

"Okay," I caressed his arm, "tomorrow, we'll go home, you just tell me when."

He nodded and I could see the overwhelm swimming in his eyes, he unplugged his phone and started looking for flights, "perfect, 11 p.m., we'll get home late, but that's okay, it's Friday, we can sleep in on Saturday."

"Sounds good to me."

"Let's get this day going. Wake's tonight, funeral's tomorrow. Gonna take about a week to get the ashes, there's no goddamn way I'm staying for that."

"Another long day."

"Another long day." he agreed.

We readied ourselves for the day and went downstairs where Abuela and the baby were watching Sesame Street together.

"Buenos días, Abuela." John kissed her on the cheek and ruffled Ellie's hair.

"Buenos días, hijos." She smiled up at us.

"Buenos días, Abuela." I echoed.

In the kitchen John poured us both bowls of cereal and slid me a cup of coffee, we sat at the breakfast bar to eat.

"You're the best." He grinned into his bowl.

"Me or the cereal?"

He rolled his eyes at me and an elbow nudged my ribs, "you know which one, dummy."

I grinned at him and shoulder checked him lightly. Martha came into the kitchen yawning and fixed herself a cup of light and sweet coffee.

"Mornin', boys."

"Hey, Pats." John waved.

"Good morning, Martha."

"You guys ready for this?" Her eyes were still half lidded, opening marginally when the coffee hit her lips, _I feel that_.

Before we could answer, Harry trudged into the kitchen and pulled the refrigerator open, grabbed out the orange juice and took a gulp from the carton.

"You're a heathen!" Martha flicked him in the ear.

"Sick." John's voice was laced with disgust.

"Whatever, losers, not you, Alexander, you're cool."

I gave him the cool guy nod.

After breakfast we gathered in the living room to make our game plan for the day. We needed to be at the church by six, the wake started at seven, "you boys all need your hair cut, especially you, John." Abuela Maria shook her head.

"Nice try, Abuela." John laughed.

"You guys do look scruffy." Martha looked between her siblings.

"Okay, fine, we'll go get our hair cut." Harry rolled his eyes at her.

"Everyone has something to wear?" Abuela asked.

"I don't." Polly looked at the ground.

"I'll take ya, Poll'." John smiled at his sister.

"Thanks, Jackie."

"With what car?" Jem reminded him.

"Dad's." John said sharply.

"Hah, yeah, right, like he'd ever-" Jem protested until Martha cut him off.

"He's not using it anymore." Martha reminded him.

That quieted Jem.

"Alright, it's ten now, everyone back here by five. Got it?" Martha took charge.

"Get dressed, Polly, we gotta get going." John told her.

Polly disappeared, returning in a tank top and shorts, "anybody else need anything while we're gone?" John inquired at the room.

"Nope. Go on." Martha waved us off.

In the garage sat a Rolls Royce, a car nicer than I'd ever been close enough to touch. John unlocked it with a beeper and sat behind the wheel, I got in next to him, Polly in the back. He adjusted the mirrors and backed out slowly, jerking the brakes.

"Sorry, been a minute since I drove."

He turned the car around, still jerking us along but found his groove by the end of the drive.

"John… This car…"

"I know, stupid, right."

"Holy shit…. Uh, sorry, Polly."

"It's cool, dad cursed all the time."

Right… _I'm sure he did._

John fiddled with the controls and settled in, his hand finding my thigh as he drove.

"So what was your first car?" I waited to be disgusted by the answer.

"Well, we got the hand me downs, so I got Martha's old car, which was my mom's old car, early 2000's Mercedes,"

I shook my head, "of course it was."

"I totalled it though," he grinned, "remember, Polly…"

She finished his sentence with rolling eyes, "...that's why we don't do drugs."

"No," he clarified, "that's why we don't drive after doing drugs."

"You're such a loser," she huffed.

"You totalled a Mercedes?" I was horrified.

He bit his lip to stifle a giggle, "and a Beemer. That one wasn't my fault, though."

"How was it not your fault?" I breathed a laugh in shock.

"Well, 'cause, I'd just gotten shot, it's really hard to drive a car with a bullet in your shoulder, even with the adrenaline high, I kinda drug it down a guard rail, but I mean, it got me home! It was fine."

I shook my head at him and he drove into town, finding a boutique on a cobblestone road, he parked out front and fed the meter. Polly stalked inside, her head heavy with what her face betrayed as solemnity. John squeezed the back of her neck reassuringly, I followed behind them.

"Long and black." John reminded her.

She sifted through the racks, a kind eyed clerk approached us, "hey guys, lookin' for somethin' special today?"

"A dress for my father's funeral." Polly kept her eyes trained on her task.

The clerk's face fell, _damn kid, that's practically a page out of my book, 'the Hamiltonian method of poor social interactions',_ "my condolences, here, this may work for what you need."

She disappeared toward the back of the store and returned with a black skater dress, she got Polly's size and took her to a fitting room. John and I waited outside. Polly came out to show her brother and John cupped his chin with his hand and nodded, it came just past her knees and had sleeves to her elbows.

"That should work, you like it?"

"It's fine," she shrugged.

"Do you have shoes?" The clerk asked.

Polly shook her head.

"Flats?"

"Yeah, I'm a size 7."

The clerk boxed up a pair of shoes and wrapped the dress in tissue before bagging them both. John paid and unlocked the car, Polly dropped her purchases in the backseat and started to get in.

"Polly, let's go for a walk, what do you say we show Alex the sights?"

"'Kay."

He took my hand in his and we strolled along the cobblestone until we came to an ice cream shoppe, John looked to Polly, "shall we?"

She smiled halfheartedly and John held the door for us.

Polly got a scoop of chocolate, John got two of butter pecan, I ordered a single scoop of coffee flavour.

"You're such a cliche," John rolled his eyes at me as I ate a spoonful of ice cream, it soothed the tingle still lurking in my throat.

"Hey, you like what you like."

"How's yours, Poll'?"

"It's good, thanks. Remember when mom used to bring us here at kids?" She sounded far away.

"I do. She always liked pistachio."

"Sometimes she'd go for strawberry, though, remember that?"

"That's right, that's all she ate the summer she was pregnant with you."

Polly grinned at the thought and took a bite of her ice cream cone. John led the way around the line of shops and the horizon opened up over the ocean, the same one I looked at almost every day, but it looked so different here. We walked down to the pier and strolled the wooden planks.

"This was mom's favourite spot…" Polly started.

"...In the whole world." John finished.

We stood there for what felt like a long time, the weight of the moment pressed on the siblings.

John broke the silence, "think we should get back?"

"Probably."

On the drive home we rolled the windows down and listened to music loud enough to hurt my ears. John drove fast. The expensive car climbing to 90 on the country roads once we were out of the city. Polly and John sang along to the music.

"I see why you got in so many accidents!" I shouted over the music.

"Two doesn't count as 'so many'!" He shouted back.

"It kind of does, I haven't been in any!"

"You don't drive! Doesn't count."

He had me there.

Back at the house, people were rushing around to get ready, Jem and Harry had had haircuts and shaved, Ellie's hair was drying from a bath, Martha's too. She sat in the armchair in front of Abuela who was braiding her hair.

"Braid chain!" Polly sat on the floor in front of Martha.

"Scooch." John nudged her with his foot, taking her place in front of Martha. Abuela braided Martha's hair, Martha braiding John's, John braiding Polly's, "it's a thing our mom started for the long haired people to make getting ready for school quicker because she didn't have time to get to all of us." John was explaining to me. _That's why he braids my hair all the time,_ the realization was a gut punch.

"You want in on this?" Polly asked me.

"I-I think I'm okay. Siblings are so weird."

I played with Ellie on the floor while the ' _braid chain'_ occured. I felt the tickle in my throat again and ignored it, going outside for a smoke. John came outside, hair neatly plaited back.

"Very nice." I complimented him, that damned tickle wouldn't shake lose, _I'm so tired._

"You okay? You look tired, more than the usual trademarked Hamil-tired."

"Did you just make a brand for my exhaustion from my surname?"

"Well, it fits, doesn't it?"

"True."

"Seriously, you look beat, go to bed, nap for an hour. I'll come get you."

"Don't mind?"

"Not at all."

"I don't think I've napped this much since college."

"Good. Go, relax. Pretend we're on vacation."

He led me inside and I mounted the stairs, feet dragging just slightly, I curled into his bed, pulling the blankets around me. A chill ran down my spine and I cleared my throat to try and shake loose of that damn tickle. _Fuck._


	20. Chapter 20

**Poor, determined Alex. So how are you doing, my lovelies? Are y'all still digging this world? I feel a natural conclusion coming in this volume - after some MAJOR fluff to soothe the pain of the SC trip, you're welcome -, but have fallen in love with this world and we've journeyed through so much development - especially from Ham - together that I hate to be done. In my head, I know what would happen in part two, is that something you guys would want to read? Anything you're really hoping for? Let me build you palaces and cathedrals ;) Thank you so so much for reading and even more for reviewing!**

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John woke me. It took a moment to recognize where I was or why I felt so hot, a fine sheen of sweat clung against my brow and I shivered at his cool touch. He smiled down at me, stroking my cheek, eyes a soft smile.

"Hey, it's about time to get ready." He whispered, moving his hand to pat my hip.

"Okay." I coughed, wet and deep from my chest and pulled myself to a sitting position.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine." I swallowed against the mucus settled in my throat and sniffed.

"You're sick." His eyes danced across my face, scanning me for illness.

I nodded, " be better after a cigarette," and shoved myself out of bed.

"That's not how that works, Alex." He called after me.

I went outside and sat on the edge of one of the chairs, leaned forward to put my head in my hands and let the cigarette dangle from my lips, wheezing to try and get a breath. John joined me outside, nice black slacks that framed his thin profile handsomely, crisp white shirt, top three buttons undone, black patent leather shoes. He crouched in front of me. I felt well enough to admire how well the nice clothes suited him. Was he already dressed when he woke me? I slept through that? _Get your shit together, Hamilton. Just for like one more day._

"Babe?"

"I'm fine." I promised, ashing my smoke.

"You don't have to come. I can tell you don't feel well. This isn't going to be fun if you're healthy and know people, so I'm sure it will be actual Hell for you." He assured me.

"Nonsense. I didn't come all this way to just stay home when it counts. Gotta be there with you. Just, do you have any dayquil or some shit like that? Prop me up and I'll be golden."

"Let's go check."

We went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and found my saviour in the little orange capsules. I took the foil package downstairs to hunt up some caffeine and swallowed the medication down with a cup of coffee. John poured me a glass of orange juice.

Polly walked by the kitchen, dressed in a long grey skirt and black cardigan, the flats we'd bought earlier, "Harry drinks from that!"

Harry walked behind her dressed in gray and navy, noticed what John was doing and echoed his sister, "I drink from that!"

John rolled his eyes and took my coffee from me, replacing it with the juice, I stared daggers at him and opened my mouth to say something crass, but at realizing how sore my throat was sipped the juice instead, the acid helping to cut the slime in my throat, "you don't need coffee right now, need to be drinking juice."

I rubbed my hand over my face, "no, I need coffee so I can do the 'people-skills' thing."

I earned another eyeroll from him, but he relented and handed back the mug. Martha heard us talking and joined us, she took a hard look at me, "you look awful, are you okay?"

"Just a cold. Probably from the recycled plane air." I waved it off.

"Are you up for coming? I mean, you don't have to."

I set my jaw, "I'm coming."

"I told him the same thing." John threw up his hands, giving up.

"You got a good one, Jackie! This man's a saint," She laughed and went back to the living room to wrangle Ellie into some tights.

I leaned against the cabinets, the cool wood felt good on my face, closed my eyes.

"If you insist on going you better get dressed. Just like this is fine, save the suit for tomorrow." He gestured at his outfit, his collarbones just peeking out from where he hadn't yet buttoned up his shirt.

I picked myself up, "alright, I'll be back in a minute."

Upstairs in the bathroom I splashed cool water on my face, managed to shave the stubble that grew high on my cheeks, trimming my goatee into something manageable. My eyes were rimmed in red and swollen, purple underneath, _nothing to do about that_. My hair stuck out at odd angles. I brushed it with John's hairbrush, my dark, straight hairs mingling with his lighter, curly ones. I pulled it into back a low bun, out of the way, pretend-refined enough to get the job done.

I rooted through my bag in his room and found my black button down shirt, pulled on my slacks and stepped into my black loafers. I held my head in my hands and willed the dayquil to take hold to just calm the throbbing that made my vision pulse.

I joined the family downstairs, checked my watch, just after five, perfect timing, at least I was doing something alright, _even if I was dying_. John retucked the back of my shirt and smoothed the collar, fussing over me, I noticed - just barely - his hands shake. I smiled sympathetically at him.

"I like the black on black thing." He bit his lip and whispered to me. _Well played, Laurens, I'm dying, we're going to your father's wake, and you're horny. This is why I'm falling for you, you inappropriate Lothario._ I managed a smile at him.

Everyone worked the details of who was riding with who. John decided just to take us in his dad's car so we could make an easy getaway if need be. Martha and David would have Ellie and Abuela. The boys would take Polly.

In the too expensive car I leaned against the door, enjoying the air conditioning blowing on my face. I accepted John's hand when he offered it, trying to soothe him, still sensing his nerves in his hand, now trembling more.

"You're okay." I told him, my eyes closed.

"I know. Just a lot of people with dad's shitty ideals. A lot of people who still see me as a reckless, shitty kid."

"Gonna be just fine. Fuck 'em." I squeezed his hand and dozed, stomach lurching when he cornered too hard, or the shocks bounced too hard from taking a hill too quickly. _Speed demon._

By the time we got to the church the dayquil had started working, I felt marginally better. I stood up straight as we walked into the church, my headache receding. John grabbed my hand again, his own shaking worse, palm sweaty. I squeezed it tight, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. He relaxed at the touch.

The wake was uneventful, John schmoozed with old, white men - at least the ones willing to make eye contact or shake his hand - while I sat in one of the pews in the back with the Laurens' ladies' purses and diaper bag, trying to stay awake and put together and out of the way, didn't want to make my presence earn John more looks of disdain from the senators and other officials that had come to the wake. I noticed the sneers on their faces already, glad that I felt as shitty as I did. The burn in my throat the only thing keeping me from saying things that most certainly earn you a ticket to Hell for saying in a church.

John kept stealing glances at me, one part sadness, one part concern. I returned his glance with a smile every time. After almost an hour and a half, Ellie - fed up from sitting still and not being given free run of the church - started to fuss, her bedtime coming quickly, she pulled away from her mother and ran down the aisle, Martha tried to hurry after her but stay elegant in front of all of her father's friends. I leaned over and stopped the baby, hand on her little belly, keeping her at arm's length, she laughed and covered her face with her hands like we were playing the greatest game.

Martha caught up, "thanks, Alexander."

"Don't worry about it. I just don't want to get her sick."

"She's fine, tough," she picked the baby up and Ellie started screaming, Martha looked exhausted "meltdown imminent, gonna take her home, wanna get out of here? You look like hell."

John shook hands with another old guy and came to see what me and Martha were discussing.

"No, I'm fine, I'll wait for John." I sniffed.

"No, you should go home, if Martha's going, babe." He thumbed my cheek.

"You sure? I don't wanna leave you with all this." I gestured broadly.

"Yeah, you still have to get through tomorrow with me, go on home. I'm just gonna stay and help clean up and get stuff ready for tomorrow."

I relented, "...o-okay, if you're sure."

"I'm sure. I love you, feel better." He kissed my head.

I handed Martha's purse to her and shouldered the diaper bag. David came back from the bathroom and took the diaper bag from me. I sat in the back of the Rover next to Ellie. She handed me toys for the duration of the ride, I tried to touch them as little as possible, earning a frown from her that seemed to ask why I'd become such a shitty playmate.

Back at the house, I excused myself to go to bed, skipping out even on the cigarette that I so desperately craved, sleeping in my undershirt and boxers, slacks and shirt discarded on the floor. I was so cold. My sleep was restless, waking to toss and turn as it became harder to breathe through my nose. Then harder to breathe around the wheeze in my chest. I woke up again and John was there, sitting at the edge of the mattress, his shirt open all the way, muscles shaded in moonlight, rubbing a cool cloth against my forehead.

"Stop," I rasped, circling his wrist in my hand, "stop taking care of me. My turn. Need to take care of you."

"Shh, Alexander, stop being ridiculous. You're sick, you have a fever, I love you, I'm taking care of you. I don't need to be taken care of right now, you'll get your turn," he handed me some pills, "for the fever. Take them."

I swallowed them with a glass of water he produced. He dressed down the rest of the way and hung our clothes up. I fell back asleep, burrowing deeper under the blankets, he slid into the bed next to me.

When I woke up again John was still there, leaning against the headboard, caressing my hip, phone pressed to his ear, laughing quietly, "he would, he would. So, you guys enjoying not having me there?"

I stirred and he quieted himself, "he's up, I'm gonna get off here, night… You too. Bye, Laf. Tell Herc I said hey," he hung up the phone and pulled me into him, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Why won't you just let me die alone like a dog?"

"Love you too much." He kissed my sweaty forehead.

"John, stop it, you'll catch whatever I have."

"Probably already have, might as well enjoy it."

"But you'll make it worse."

"Don't care. Laf says hi, by the way, and he hopes you feel better soon."

"Ugh, does everyone know I'm dying?"

"Yup, I took out a billboard and everything."

"You're the worst. How was the rest of the wake?"

He sighed, "it was fine. I'm so ready to go home, though."

"What time is it?"

"About midnight."

"You gonna go to bed soon?"

"I dunno, what about you? Still tired?"

I nodded and he slid down the pillows and held me, "then let's go to bed."

I pawed at his arms, "stop, I'm gross, you're gonna get sick."

"Worth it." He kissed my chapped lips.

"Stop it." My voice was an insolent whine.

"Nope. Goodnight, my love."

I wheezed and tried to get comfortable in his arms in a way that I wouldn't breathe on him, finally deciding to face away from him. He let my hair out of its bun and stroked my head, returning the washcloth to my cheeks and forehead, he crooned calming, loving words to me. My eyes closed and my mind spinning, both from fever and from the self-loathing that _again_ he was taking care of me, couldn't even get through a week, _a week!_ The week his father died, that he had to see his asshole brother, _nope, gotta make sure it's the Hamilton Show all day every day._ I was pissed at myself as I fell back asleep.


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks so much for your sweet words, and of course for reading. Probably about 1 more chapter before volume II starts. I hope you'll join me on that one. You guys make my world go round!**

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I nursed a cup of coffee and sat in the La-Z-Boy, Ellie playing on the floor beside me, still frustrated with me for not playing with her. Polly kept offering to get me something, I denied any offers. John was upstairs getting ready. I would have to get ready soon, too… cigarette first.

I coughed with the first drag, mucusy and wet, the cough making my head throb and my throat hurt worse. John found me out on the balcony. He looked gorgeous. Hair pulled into a low ponytail, curly little strands loose by his ears framing his face, a tailored slim fit suit jacket over his button down with a skinny black tie.

"You clean up alright, gamin." I quirked an eyebrow at him.

He laughed at me and rolled his eyes, "you gonna go get ready?"

I nodded and extinguished my cigarette.

"My offer still stands, love. You don't have to come."

"We don't _have_ to do anything, querido, we choose to." I rasped and got out of the chair and ran my fingertips across his back, feeling him shudder into my touch.

I looked halfway human in my suit, nothing compared to John. The sleeves just a touch too long, a scuff on one of the shoes that I didn't have the energy to try and buff out. Good enough. We all left for the church again. _Second verse, same as the first._ John kept checking on me, I kept telling him I was fine. He was distracting himself, pouring his nervous energy into caring for me. Annoying as I found the constant questioning, I let him. If he wasn't going to let me die in peace, at least I could act as a distraction to bring him some peace.

The service started with a prayer. I sat quietly holding John's hand, a tissue in my other hand, trying to keep my wheezing and sniffling quiet. John was somber through the service, picking at his nails, his tie, lint off his pants, bouncing his knee. Martha eulogized her father for the siblings and did a lovely job making the dead man not sound like a piece of shit. Ellie started to lose it by the end of the service and David removed her to the foyer. There was more praying, more talking, more singing, another prayer.

John and I exited to the foyer, he accepted condolences and introduced me to a few people. We migrated to the fellowship hall for the reception of cake and punch, _because how else do you say, 'hooray, the old bastard's dead!'?_

It had been a long service, lots of prayers and hymns, we were all ready to go home. He was in a mood from listening to more of his father's friends and colleagues give him fake condolences and act like they hadn't voted against people like John and me at every possible opportunity. He found me in a corner of the hall, waiting to be given orders to be helpful. His fists were balled, his jaw set, and he leaned against me for comfort.

"You okay?" I rubbed his back.

"I'm just tired of these southern motherfucking republicans." He grumbled quietly in my ear and rubbed his face, looking tired.

"Almost over."

"I know. I gotta clean up."

I started helping, taking discarded plates and throwing them in the trash.

"You can go sit." John reminded me as I balled up a plastic tablecloth.

"I'm fine." I threw the tablecloth away.

John bragged about me to an old woman, "Alexander came down with something from the trip and he's still kicking."

"Wow, little Jackie. How sweet. You know, I don't think it's true what they say about the queers, I've known you your whole life, and you turned into a fine man, all things considered, and this Alexander seems like a fine man, too. Just a shame you won't find a nice girl and give us any babies." She tried to be kind.

John pressed a tight smile, "plenty of other guys for nice girls, Ms. Lovetta."

"Your mother would be so proud of you. Working in the big city, happy. You seem happy, Jackie. Now, I know you and your father didn't see eye to eye, but he loved you."

"Thanks." He patted her on the shoulder and went to take out the trash.

He returned and took my elbow, eyes wide, "time to go."

I waved a goodbye to the old woman who was smiling at us.

In the car John burst out laughing, "oh, my god, 'the queers' did you hear that shit?"

"At least she was nice about it?"

"I guess. You feeling okay?" He cleared his throat.

"I'll live."

"Need anything before we go back to the house?"

I shook my head and coughed hard.

"God, that sounds bad. Be good to be home."

I agreed and napped on the ride and woke up on his shoulder, leaned across the center console.

"Sorry, I didn't-"

"You're fine, you kept hunching forward, so I just pulled you over on me. You poor thing, sound like you can barely catch your breath."

I wheezed and tried to cough to get a better breath. We started packing up our things, everyone scattered to their respective corners, Martha put Ellie down for a nap, David went home, Jem cloistered himself in his room, Harry to his video games. John gathered our toiletries from the bathroom, taking the package of dayquil, too. I shoved everything into my suitcase, wearing the outfit I'd travel in; sweatpants and his NASA hoodie, _I don't give any fucks, it's the most comfortable article of clothing I've ever known._ I curled up on the bed, hood up, in fetal position and prayed for death. John zipped his bag and snuggled up against me.

"You are the cutest, saddest human I've ever met," he started to pull my hood back, but I tightened the drawstrings, "see, that just confirms it!"

After a coughing fit, I pulled myself together and went downstairs for dinner with John and his family. An impressive stack of pizzas had been ordered. John helped himself to a few slices of cheese, I took a piece of supreme and another cup of coffee, my appetite evaded me. We sat around the table together, the siblings laughing and joking, even Jem's spirits seemed lifted.

"I wish you weren't going home so soon." Polly told John.

"You'll come visit before Christmas, and I'll see you next summer." He reassured her.

"Can we see Wicked?"

"Uh, duh, and Waitress, and Lion King."

Her eyes sparkled, "really?"

He nodded.

"You have such a nice brother, don't you?" Abuela asked her.

Polly grinned and nodded.

"When are you going to come visit me?" Abuela asked him.

"I don't know, won't be going anywhere for awhile after taking this much time off."

We finished our dinner and John spent time playing with Ellie before she went to bed, it was bittersweet to see how the little girl had warmed up to him. The kids all dispersed back to their rooms, abuela said her goodbyes to John and myself and went to bed. After Martha returned from putting Ellie down she joined us in the living room.

"Sad to see you go, brother." Martha sighed, leaning against him, looping her arm through his.

"Goodbye's the hardest part."

"We're still a pretty good team with these guys."

"Yup, always have been. You'll call me if you need anything, right?"

"Yeah, I'll call you."

"And you're sure about things with Polly?"

"I'm sure. It'll be easier with me and David living here."

"I don't know how you're doing it. I hate this fucking house." Anger seeped in his voice.

"Me too, but it's right for the kids. Get Harry to go to college, one gap year was enough, Jem needs to do the same. We'll stay until Polly's old enough, and hey, I'll get to take Ellie down to our creek."

"Damn that creek," John laughed, "almost killed us both."

"That and the snakes."

"And the snakes." He agreed.

"You guys about ready to go?"

"Yeah, we better, sure about taking us?"

"Of course, dummy, go say your goodbyes."

Harry appeared and elaborately high fived his brother, the sequence ending in a hug. He shook my hand, "you're pretty cool, Alexander. See ya soon."

"Thanks, Harry. Take care." I returned his smile.

Polly followed after Harry, tears in her eyes, she squeezed John tight, "I love you, Jack."

He kissed her head and rubbed her back, "I love you more, Polly girl, be good," he pulled away from her, wiped her tears and caressed her long, ropy braid, "no tears, no more. Be tough, you got this. You can always call me."

She nodded and let him go, surprising me with a tight hug, I wheezed and patted her back, "bye, Alexander, I really like you. I hope you stay." She sniffled.

"You're a good kid." She let me go.

Jem watched from the top of the stairs, "gonna say goodbye?" John asked.

He trudged down the stairs and hugged John awkwardly.

John embraced him, "I love you, kid."

"I love you, too." Jem whispered.

"Bye." I waved to him. _Asshole._

"Later." He waved back.

"Alright, we're off." Martha handed me my backpack and John grabbed his and took both of our suitcases.

The airport was a blur, sounds and lights hurting my eyes, I was grateful to be able to board early and for the extra room first class had to offer. John ordered a hot tea with honey from the flight attendant, I got a coffee. He blew his nose into the cocktail napkin from his drink and leaned on my shoulder.

"You doing alright?" I asked him, brushing his hair away from my face.

"Yeah, my head really hurts, and there's this tickle in my throat that won't go away." He cleared his throat.

"Dammit, John, I told you not to kiss me or sleep in bed with me." I lay my head on his and closed my eyes.

"I know, but I love you too much, and you were so pathetic, I just wanted to make you feel better and having you around made me feel better." He snorted, raspy and mucusy.

"Just gotta make it home, then we can die."

"Dying sounds great." He agreed.

"How long have you been feeling shitty?"

"Since the funeral, really. Noticed the sore throat then."

"Jesus, John, see I told you." I tried my hardest to be annoyed with him, but was too worn out.

We halfway paid attention to the emergency instructions, drinks now cool enough to sip. The coffee restored a touch of my humanity. I was almost too out of it to feel anxious as the plane took off, and we were both asleep by cruising altitude.

Our flight attendant woke us when it was time to make our descent, my nap made me alert enough to be anxious. John looked worse, nose red, eyes watery, breathing from his mouth. The landing was rougher than our last flight and it made my stomach lurch. I tried to take deep breaths around my wheeze, but we survived to the ground without exploding into a ball of flame. _Though just barely, I'm convinced._

The wait for our luggage was the longest fifteen minutes of my life. John and I stood there exhausted, me leaning back against him, his arms around me to steady himself, he was swaying ever so slightly. Finally our bags were up, we collected them and made for the subway.

"Where are we going?" His voice was small, I was in charge of making decisions.

"If we go to mine there's no one else to infect."

"But you don't have food." He whined.

I thought about it, "...I might?"

"You never have food, Alexander, and I want my bed, and I have more pillows so we can both be propped up."

"Whatever you say." I didn't have any fight in me. Hopefully we wouldn't spread this to Lafayette.

The subway was filled with drunken idiots, we claimed a corner for ourselves and sat in a heap of lassitude. Lafayette and Hercules were still awake when we got to the apartment, lounging on the couch. John dropped his bags by the door, I set mine down gently in the corner.

"Welcome home." Lafayette smiled at us, not unlike the cheesy grin in the photo album.

"Hi, guys." John leaned heavily against the wall.

"Oh no, you are both sick?"

John nodded.

"Go to bed," Hercules insisted, "babe, you can bother them tomorrow."

"But I wanted to bother them now. Fine, go to bed. You do look very ill."

In the bedroom, John tossed his sport coat to the floor and kicked his jeans off. Feeling frozen with chill, I left his hoodie on and we fell into each other, seeking comfort. I lie in the crook of his arm, no longer caring about my stale breath on his face as he started snoring, raspy, gaping mouth, clogged with gunk in his chest. He was so warm, I clung tighter to him to try and steal some of his heat away, nesting further in the blankets. He kicked them off in a fervor in his sleep, and I bundled myself in his portion, too. _So dizzy._ I clung to him to try and keep a grip on reality and make the world stop spinning. He shoved me off and pulled at his clothing, he was so sweaty and hot.

I hauled myself out of bed and found him a washcloth in the bathroom and ran it under the tap, I wrung cool water from it.

"Do you have everything you need?" Lafayette asked from the couch.

I shivered, "uh, advil? He's feverish. I'd get it, but I don't know where you keep meds."

"Be right there, mon ami."

I made it back to the bedroom and nursed John with the cool washcloth as he slept fitfully, running it over his face and neck, his arms, his belly where he'd pulled at his shirt. Lafayette opened the door and handed me a bottle and some water. I thanked him and he retreated to less germ-infested waters. I roused John enough to get him to take the medication and he peeled his shirt off, sleeping only in his underwear, still so hot. I, _still fucking freezing_ , cocooned myself in the blankets and kept mopping his face with the rag. He thrust a hand out to find me and caressed my arm, head lolling to the side, he smacked his chapped lips and I held him up enough to help him drink more water. Once he settled, snoring again, I tucked back against him and fell asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

**The fluffy, sniffly conclusion to the first installment of this universe. I have so much more planned out. The first chapter of the sequel has been posted** s/12942309/1/Let-This-Moment-be-the-First-Chapter, **I can't wait to hear what you think! Thank you for being a part of this journey. As always, I am so grateful for reviews and for you taking the time to read what I create. I love this Alexander and John so much. I can't wait for you to see what's next for them.**

 **-M W**

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The voice ground against my headache, loud and cheery. I nested further against John's sleeping form. _John's sleeping form. A voice coming from behind me. Wait..._ I opened an eye against the advice of my vertigo and saw Lafayette through a haze of dizziness.

"Bonjour, mes amis! I have medication and food for you."

John stirred and grunted, "I'm sleeping."

Lafayette made a noise in reply and handed me pills and a glass of juice, I sat up and took them gratefully, he poked John and gave him his own dose, John was less grateful about it, blinking blearily. Lafayette set a tray down at the end of the bed.

"Scrambled eggs and toast, see if you can tolerate, and I will bring you more, good luck."

"You really didn't have to-" I started to protest his kindness.

"Nonsense, it is what friends do, no?"

 _He's my friend? File that shit away to unpack later. Friends? I have those now?_

"Thank you." John held up a thumbs up and let himself fall back against the mattress.

Lafayette closed the door behind him and John finally propped himself up, he still looked like hell. Skin pale and sunken, eyes still glassy though his fever had broken during the night, breathing through his mouth, his red, chapped nose offering little airflow. His hair was a mess.

"Good morning, querido. How are you feeling today?" I looked at him through my own tired, watery eyes.

He just shook his head and dropped his head against my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around him and picked up a piece of toast, taking a cautious bite.

"Nice of Lafayette to bring us breakfast."

"He owes me." John said, picking up his own piece of toast.

"What do you mean?"

"Remember the morning after the night at the club when you met Hercules?"

"Yeah."

"Herc wasn't always around."

"Oof, fair point." I imagined college nights of John holding back hair, ferrying advil, hauling Lafayette from the floor of the bathroom to his bed.

"You feeling any better today?"

"Maybe a little. Just want to sleep. Need coffee."

"No coffee, coffee is bad for sick people." He coughed and blotted his watery eyes with a tissue.

"Not coffee is bad for 'this people'."

"My head hurts so bad. Do you think the room is spinning?"

"The room is definitely spinning." I agreed and took another bite of toast. John leaned harder against me, his personal sense of gravity shifting.

"Laf makes really good eggs. We should eat some of them." His voice was a wet slur.

I steeled myself to the idea of food and tried a small bite, I could sense on a meta level that they probably were delicious, but in the last day and a half, my taste buds had abdicated. I took another bite, the food actually working to settle my stomach. In this moment, I was fine owing Lafayette. It wasn't my 'hair-holding' debt he was repaying. John managed a few forkfuls of eggs and a whole piece of toast.

"Alright, I gotta take a piss and I'm only getting up once, what do you need?" I braced myself to stand, the room tilting slightly.

"Um…" he thought, "more water." He handed me his glass.

I sat his glass on the breakfast tray and picked it up before shuffling to the kitchen where I filled up his water glass, catching Lafayette's attention.

"I'll fuck with the dishes later." I told him.

"Not a worry, I am going to see Hercules, but we will bring you Chinese food later."

"Deal. Thanks for breakfast." My resolve to protest his promise of lunch was eviscerated, the sickness stripping me of my formidable brand of self-loathing reclusiveness.

"Absolutely, you will call if I am needed."

I nodded and took a drink of John's water, noting that the coffee pot was empty, _I don't think I can fucking stand long enough to make a pot._ My headache worse from the lack of caffeine, lack of nicotine, I shuffled to the bathroom. _Fucking forgot his water_ , I made it back to the kitchen, then back to bed. John was burrowing himself under the blankets.

"You're cold?" I looked at him in disgust.

"Freezing. You can't possibly be hot?"

I handed him his water, stripped out of his hoodie and handed it to him, "burning the fuck up." I wiped my forehead.

He yanked his hoodie on and nested back into the blankets. Still too hot, I pulled my shirt off and kicked my sweatpants off and joined him in bed, staying far away from the blankets.

"We can watch a movie." He told me, gasping a breath every few words.

"Don't care." I was exhausted from my journey between the bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom, sweat dampening the hair on my chest.

"So cold." He shivered.

"I'm so… hot." I patted his hip, trying anything to make him feel better without aligning myself with his calescent body.

"This was the worst goddamn week,"

I snorted against the gunk in my throat and swallowed hard despite the burn and agreed with him, "pretty shitty."

"You're the best. Thank you for coming."

"Well… yeah… where else would I be, not like I do other shit except work. Shit, I need to follow up with Adams on my article."

"You could have just stayed home. Like most guys who never gave a shit about me."

"John, I give at least three shits about you." I rubbed his hip with more vigor.

"Damn… I think that's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me, Alex."

"Don't go and make it a fucking thing." I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to still the room which had re-commenced its spinning.

He rolled to face me, and snuggled up against my side, "stop, can't, too hot." I rolled away from him. We fell asleep like that. When I woke up again the drive for a cigarette too bad to ignore. I forced myself up and out of bed, to the pocket of my messenger bag, _one blessed smoke left_ , I put it to my lips, and stepped outside, sitting on the metal slats of the balcony. I lit the cigarette and felt my lungs spasm as the smoke hit them. I wheezed and hacked, but then the nicotine hit and I relaxed marginally, the headache becoming more manageable. I went back inside and curled up with John. I felt him start to move.

"Okay?" I asked, eyes shut.

"Yeah, gotta pee. You want something?"

"Coffee."

"No, you definitely can't have coffee."

I hated myself for the whine in my voice, "but, I need it."

"Bummer." he held onto the door frame as he crossed the threshold.

When he came back he checked his phone sitting on the edge of the bed, "what do you want for lunch? Egg drop soup?"

"And hot and sour soup." I added.

"Just soup?"

"Lots of soup. All the soup."

"Okay, weirdo."

Lafayette woke us from another nap with food, brandishing two quarts of soup for me, soup and a takeout box for John. We sang our praises to Lafayette and he disappeared again. I drank some of my soup from the container and John picked at his noodles. After eating what we could handle I held John against my side, our clammy foreheads touching. John fell back asleep first.

The sun was lower through the curtains when I woke up again, I pulled it together enough to check my email, of course Adams had something to say and wanted me to make revisions to the article. I had to type them out on the tiny goddamn keyboard on my phone as my laptop sat abandoned in my empty apartment. I sniffled pathetically while I plotted a million alternate universes with varying degrees of telling Adams off, punching him in an alley, writing an exploitative tell-all, going full Office Space, going full Fight Club. I sent the revisions in an email to him, grumbling and in a worse mood. John shifted beside me.

"You're working?" John cleared his throat and sneezed several times in a row.

"Just had to get a revision to Adams. Go back to sleep."

He wrapped his arms around me and I put my phone away, losing it in the sheets.

"You're really good at taking care of everything." He whispered to me, _clearly he's delirious with fever. Me, good? Good at balance? Certainly, you have the wrong Puerto Rican asshole, my friend._

"What are you talking about? You're ridiculous."

"No. No. You're working, you took care of me. You're the best, Alex."

"Well, you took care of me, too." _No one's done that for me since my mother._

"'Cause I love you."

"I love you, too." I kissed his head and nuzzled against him, finally feeling a little bit better. Better from the sickness, better from my demons, better because I had John.


End file.
